Five nevv PLAYES, VI …

Five nevv PLAYES, VIZ.

  • The ENGLISH MOOR, or The MOCK­MARRIAGE.
  • The LOVE-SICK COURT, or The AM­BITIOUS POLITIQUE.
  • COVENT GARDEN Weeded.
  • The NEVV ACADEMY, or The NEVV EXCHANGE.
  • The QUEEN and CONCUBINE.

By RICHARD BROME.

LONDON, Printed for A. Crook at the Green Dragon in Saint Pauls Church-yard, and for H. Brome at the Gunn in Ivy-Lane, 1659.

Bromes Playes.

[...]

TO THE READERS.

OR rather to the Spe­ctators, if the Fates so pleas'd, these Come­dies exactly being dressed for the Stage; and the often-tried Author (better than many who can but scribble) under­stood the Proportions and Beauties of a Scene; But as they are they will not deceive you; for the same hand (which formerly pleas'd) now held the Pen. VVe suppose we bring what in these dayes you scarce could hope for, Five [Page] new Playes We call them new, because till now they never were printed. You must not think them posthumous Pro­ductions, though they come into the world after the Author's death: they were all begotten and born (and own'd by Him before a thousand witnesses) many years since; they then trod the Stage (their proper place) though they pass'd not the Press. They are all Comedies, for (a man would think) we have had too many Tra­gedies. But this Book knew them not. The ENGLISH MOOR here (what ever name or face it wears) is older than our Troubles. The LOVE-SICK COURT, and the AMBITIOUS POLITICK are but one Play, though strange those two should dwell toge­ther. This NEW ACADEMY con­cerns not that which eight years since peep'd up in Write Friers; and this NEW EXCHANGE knows no­thing [Page] of that which now is cleaving to the Great Church VVall. This QUEEN is a meer stranger to our Island; Her Scene is Sicily, the Persons and Action taste nothing of England. Thus the whole Book being free and ingenuous, we hope the Author may have the same allowance, especially now since he's gone to the great Wits, that is, dead. And yet there are a sort (one would wonder there should be) who think they lessen this Author's worth when they speak the relation he had to Ben. Johnson. VVe very thankful­ly embrace the Objection, and desire they would name any other Master that could better teach a man to write a good Play. The materials must flow from all parts of the world; but the Art and Composition come onely from Books and such living Masters as that our great Laureat; And for this purpose we have here prefixt Ben Johnson's own [Page] testimony to his Servant our Author; we grant it is (according to Ben's own nature and custome) magisterial e­nough; and who looks for other, since he said to Shakespear—I shall draw envy on thy name (by writing in his praise) and threw in his face —small Latine and less Greek; but also told Sel­den himself (as if Ben's conscience checked him for being too good na­tured in commending others.)

Your Book (my Selden) I have read—
Though I confess (as every Muse hath err'd,
And mine not least) I have too oft preferr'd
Men past their terms, and prais'd some names too much,
But twas with purpose to have made them such;
Since, being deceiv'd, I turn a sharper eye
Upon my self, and ask to whom, and why,
And what I write, and vex it many dayes
Before men get a Verse, much less a Praise.
[Page] —I first salute thee so, and gratulats,
With that thy style, thy keeping of thy state.
—I could take up (and nere abuse
The credit) what would [...]urnish a tenth Muse▪
But here's nor time nor place my wealth to tell;
You both are modest, so am I. Farewel.

It seems (what ere we think) Ben thought it diminution for no man to attend upon his Muse. And were not already the Antients too much trod on, we could name famous wits who served far meaner Masters than Ben Johnson. For, none vers'd in Letters but know the wise Aesop was born and bred a wretched slave; Lucian a Stone-cutter, Virgil himself begotten by a Basket-maker, born in a ditch, and then prefe [...]red to an under Groom in the stable; nay, (to instance in our Authors own order) Naevius the Co­median a Captains mans man; Plau­tus [Page] servant to a poor Baker, Terence a slave as well as Aesop; and (which for our purpose is most of all) our Au­thors own Master handled the Trowel before he grew acquainted with Seia­nus or Cataline. But enough of this, lest pleading for the Author, make him seem to want an Apology. As for the Stationers, they bring these Poems as they had them from the Author; not suffering any false or busy hand to adde or make the least mutilation; ha­ving been more watchful over the Printers common negligence, than such work as this hath usually obtained. And if these new Playes fail your ex­pectation, we openly profess we know not how, where, or when we shall fit you.

To my old Faithful Servant, and (by his continu'd vertue) my loving Friend, the Author of this work, Mr. Rich. Brome.

I Had you for a Servant, once, Dick. Brome,
And you perform'd a Servants faithful parts:
Now, you are got into a neerer room
Of Fellowship, professing my old Arts.
And you do do them well, with good applause,
Which you have justly gained from the Stage,
By observation of those Comick Laws,
Which I, your Master, first did teach this Age.
You learn'd it well, and for it serv'd your Time,
A Prentiship, which few do now adayes:
Now each Court. Hobby-Horse, will wince in Rhime.
[Page] Both learned and unlearned, all write Playes:
It was not so of old; men took up trades
That knew the Crafts they had been bred in right;
An honest Bilbo Smith would make good Blades,
And the Physician teach men spue, and—
The Cobler kept him to his Awll, But now
He'll be a Pilot, scarce can guide a Plow.
Ben. Johnson.

To my most ingenious friend, Mr. ALEX. BROME Upon his setting forth Mr. RICH. BROMES PLAYES:

THis, Sir, is double Piety, and you
In this oblige the dead and living too.
As the last trumpet with one pow'rful sound
Raises forgotten Bodies from the ground,
And betters those that yet remain alive:
So you an equal happiness do give
Unto his dust, and us, at once engage
His sacred Ashes, and the present age.
Nor can I tell to whom we more are bound,
Or to his wit, or you that have it found.
When Thetis Son amongst the maids lay hid,
And for their softer wars the Trojan fled;
[Page] He that discover'd him, did justly claim
An equal share in th' honour of his name;
And da [...]d to call Achilles victories,
All those exploits, and all those Trophies his:
So you that have this noble wit reveal'd
And made it be (which was before con­ceal'd)
Known and commended, may as well re­ceive
Part in those Lawrels we to him do give.
He made the oyl, but you enlightned it,
He gave the salt, but you have made it white,
And dug it from the Pit where it once lay
Unseen, or by the eyes of men or day:
He made the branches of this Coral grow,
Hid in its private Sea untouch'd; but you
By drawing it into the open air,
Have made it turn more pretious, and more fair.
He spake with such a full and easie strain,
With such a soft, and such a flowing vein,
As if 'twere Nature all, yet there was Art,
Yet there was Skill in every limb and Part.
So gently came all that he thought or writ,
As if he made it not, but did repeat.
His fancy like the blood did alwayes flow,
Yet full of life and full of spirts too.
[Page] His wit and Angels did in this a [...]ee,
Their motion is most nimble, quick, and free,
And perfect too. And as the world was made,
(Which no delayes of spring and summer had,
No ages or increases, but on all
At first a ripeness, and full growth did fall;
So all that from his happy Pen did come
Was ripe and grown at first, and left no room
For after change, no second hand could give
More strength to it, or it more strength re­ceive.
When he doth speak of love, himself he arms
With such resistless, and such conquering charms,
Acts such sweet hopes, such innocent fears, and joyes,
That we or love his Mistress, or his voice,
As eccho did. When he would make us smile,
Thousand Anacreons play about his style.
When he commands our sorrow, straight our eyes
Into salt streams, our hearts to sighings rise.
When he doth laugh again, the clouds are gone,
[Page] Our minds [...]to a sudden calmness run:
He so dispos'd our thoughts, as when the hand,
Or eye of the chief Gen'ral doth command,
Whole Armies act what his example led,
Follow his postures with such willing speed,
Into obedience with such eafiness fall,
As if one soul and spring did move them all.
When he strook vice, he let the person go,
Wounded not men but manners; nor did do
Like him who when he painted heaven & hel,
Amongst the damned shades and those that fell,
Did draw his Enemies face, that all might say
Who there condemned by the Painter lay:
But as the Surgeon at once hides and cures,
And bindeth up the limb which most in­dures
The sore and pain: so he with gentle hand
Did heal the wound, and yet conceal the man.
His Scenes mens Actions, Tempers, Humours shew,
And copy out what the great world doth do.
His words are like the shapes which Angels take,
And for themselves of finest air do make,
That are so much like men, that clearest eyes
Cannot discern where the smal difference lies.
[...]

THE English Moor, OR THE MOCK-MARRIAGE.

A Comaedy as it was often acted with general applause by her Maje­sties Servants.

Innocens permitte jocos cur ludere nobis
Non liceat?—

LONDON, Printed by J. T. for A. C. and Henry Broom, and are to be sold at the Gun in Ivie-lane, 1658.

Prologue.

MOst noble, fair and curteous, to ye all
Welcome and thanks we give, that you would call
And visit your poor servants, that have been
So long and pitiless unheard, unseen.
Welcome, you'l say your money that does do,
(Dissembling is a fault) we say so too.
And your long absence was no fault of your,
But our sad fate to be so long obscure.
Jove and the Muses grant, and all good Men,
We feel not that extremity again:
The thought of which yet chills us with a fear
That we have bought our liberty too dear:
For should we fall into a new restraint,
Our hearts must break that did before but faint.
You noble, great and good ones, that vouchsafe
To see a Comedy, and sometimes laugh
Or smile at wit and harmeless mirth, As thus
ye have begun to grace and succour us;
Be further pleas'd (to hold us still upright,
For our r [...]lief, and for your own delight)
To move for us to those high powers whom we
submit unto in all humility,
For our proceeding, and we'le make it good
To utter nothing may be understood
Offensive to the state, manners or time,
We will as well look to our necks as climb.
You hear our sute, obtain it if you may;
Then find us money and we'le find you play.

Drammatis Personae.

  • Meanwell. Two old Gentlemen and friends, sup­posed to have been kill'd in a Duel.
    Rashley.
  • Arthur, Meanwels Son, in love with Lucy.
  • Theophilus, Rashleys Son, in love with Milicent.
  • Quicksands, an old Ʋsurer.
  • Testy, an old angry Justice.
  • Winlose, a decayed Gentleman.
  • Vincent. Two gallants undone by Quicksands.
    Edmund.
  • Nath. Banelass, a Wencher.
  • Host. Drawer.
  • Ralph, Meanwels servant.
  • Arnold, Rashleys servant.
  • Buzard, Quicksands servant.
  • Dionisia, Meanwels daughter.
  • Lucy, Rashleys daughter.
  • Milicent, Testys Neece.
  • Phillis, Winlose daughter.
  • Madge, Quicksands servant.

The Scene London.

THE ENGLISH-MOOR or the Mock-Marriage.

Act. 1. Scene. 1.

Arthur. Dionysia.
Ar.
DEar Sister, bear with me.
Di.
I may not, brother.
What! suffer you to pine, and peak away
In your unnatural melancholy fits;
Which have already turn'd your purer blood
Into a toad-pool dye. I am asham'd
(Upon my life) almost to call you brother
But nature has her swing in me. I must.
Therefore I crave you (as you are my brother)
To shake this dull and muddy humor off,
By visiting the streets, and quit your chamber,
Which is a sickness to you.
Ar.
O my sister!
Di.
I can say, O my brother too, to shew you
How it becomes you. I have the same cause
Equally with your self, to spend my life
In sollitary mourning; and would do it,
Could it make good our loss: My honor'd Father!
[Page 2] A tear has scap'd me there: But that's by th'by,
And more of anger 'gainst his enemy,
And his for ever curs'd posterity,
That rob'd us of a Father, then of sorrow
For what we know is unrecoverable.
But to sit grieving over his Memory
In a resolved silence, as you do;
Killing your own blood while a vein holds any
Proceeding from the flesh, that drew out his,
Is meerly idle. Mingle then your grief
With thought of brave revenge: And do it not
In private Meditation in your Chamber;
But bear it out till it proceed to Action.
Ar.
By powring blood on blood?
Di.
By quenching fire
Of high revenge, with base unmanly blood;
By stopping of our Fathers cureless wounds
(Which still bleed fresh in our vex'd memories)
With the proud flesh of him that butcher'd ours.
Ar.
We know he lives not that has slain our Father:
Or, if he lives, tis where I cannot reach him:
He nere saw English harbour since his sword
Unfortunately had the better of my father.
Di.
But his son lives.
Ar.
Good sister cool thy passion
With reasonable means
Di.
O where's the spirit
That my slain father had. Have you no part of't?
Must I now play the Man, whilst you inherit
Onely my Mothers puling disposition?
Ar.
I know thy drift, good sister Dionisia,
Is not unto revenge, or blood; but to stir up
Some motion in me, to prevent the danger
A sad retiredness may bring upon me.
Di.
Bee't as you think it, so you will abroad;
And make the house no longer dark with sighing.
Ent. Rafe
[Page 3] Now Sir the newes with you?
Ra.
Newes worth your hearing,
Meerly to laugh at: Good for nothing else.
Di.
Is the old Ruffian tane, and hang'd, that slew
My Father; or his son Brain-battered; or
His Daughter made a prostitute to shame?
Ar.
How merciless are your wishes!
Ra.
Lady, no.
But as I was hankring at an ordinary,
In quest of a new Master (for this, here,
Will never last to a new livory
'Less he were merrier) I heard the bravest noise
Of Laughter at a wicked accident
Of Marriage, that was chopt up this Morning.
Di.
What marriage? Quickly.
Ra.
Who do you think
Has married fair Mistris Millicent?
Di.
Theophilus (I can name him, though his father
Was fatal unto mine) was sure to her.
Ra.
Yes, but without a Priest. She has slipt his hold,
And is made fast enough unto another,
For which fine Mr. The. so whines and chafes,
And hangs the head! More then he would do
For's father, were he hanged, as you did wish
For laughing newes eene now. Ther's sport for you.
Di.
It does me good to hear of any cross
That may torment their family. I wish
Joy to the man that did beguile him of her
What ere he be.
Ar.
But who has married her?
Ra.
Thence springs the jest. Old Mr. Quicksands, Sir,
The bottomless devourer of young Gentlemen;
He that has liv'd, till past three-score, a batcheler,
By three-score i'the hundred; he that has
Undone by Mortgages and under-buyings
So many Gentlemen, that they all despair'd
[Page 4] Of means to be reveng'd.
Ar.
But where's your Jest?
Ra.
The Jest is, that they now have found that means
(As they suppose) by making of him Cuckold.
They are laying their heads together in every corner,
Contriving of his horns, and drinking healths
To the success. And there were sport for you now,
If you were any body.
Ar.
I'le abroad however.
Di.
That's nobly said. Take courage with you Brother.
Ar.
And yet me thinks I know not how to look
The wide world in the face, thus on the sudden
I would fain get abroad, yet be unknown.
Ra.
For that Sir (look you) I have here, by chance,
A false beard which I borrowed, with a purpose
To ha' worn't and put a jest upon your sadness.
Ar.
Does it do well with me?
Ar. puts on the beard.
Ra.
You'l never have
One of your own so good: you look like Hector.
Ar.
Go fetch my sword and follow me.
Di.
Be sure you carry a strict eye o're his actions,
And bring me a true account.
Ra.
I warrant you Mistriss.
Di.
Do, and I'le love thee everlastingly.
Why, now you are my brother.
Ar.
Farewel Sister.
Exit. Ar. Ra.
Di.
I hope he has some stratagem a foot
In our revenge to make his honour good:
It is not grief can quit a fathers blood.
Exit.

ACT 1. SCENE 2.

Nathaniel. Phillis.
Nat.
Prithee be and answered, and hang off o'me,
I ha' no more to say to you in the way
[Page 5] You wot on Phillis.
Phi.
Nor do I seek to you
In that way which you wot on, wanton Sir,
But to be honest, and to marry me.
You have done too much the tother way already.
Nat.
I wish you were more thankful, Mrs. Phillis,
To one has taught you a trade to live upon:
You are not th'first by twenty I have taught it
That thrive well i'the world.
Phi.
There are so many
Such teachers in the world; and so few
Reformers, that the world is grown so full
Of female frailties, the poor Harlotries
Can scarce already live by one another,
And yet you would have me thrust in among'em.
Nat.
I do not urge you. Take what course you please,
But look not after me: I am not mark'd
For Matrimony, I thank my stars.
Phi.
Should I run evil courses, you are the cause;
And may in time, curse your own act in it:
You'l find th'undoing of an honest Maid
Your heaviest sin upon your bed of sickness;
T will cost your soul the deepest groan it fetches;
And in that hope I leave you.
Exit.
Nat.
Farewel wag-tail.
Marry thee quoth a! That's wise work indeed!
If we should marry every Wench we lie with,
'T were after six a week with some of us.
(Marry love forbid) when two is enough to hang one.
Vin.
Nat, we have sought diligently, for fear
Enter Vin­cent and Edmond.
The news that is abroad should flie before us.
Nat.
What news? What flying fame do you labour with?
Ed.
News that makes all the Gallants i'the Town
Fly out o'their little wits: They are so eager,
Upon the joy. I mean such youthful Gallants
As have, or sold, or mortgag'd; or been cheated
[Page 6] By the grave patron of Arch-cosonage,
Whose sad misfortune we are come to sing:
Shall I need to name him to thee?
Nat.
Who, the old Rascal Quicksands? speak good Vince,
What! has he hangd himself? speak quickly prithe.
Ʋin.
Worse, worse by half man. Durst thou hear a news
Whose mirth will hazzard cracking of a rib?
Nat.
I, and't be two. Here's hoopes enough besides
To hold my drink in. Pray thee speak; what mischief
Is come upon him.
Ed.
I pray thee guess again.
Nat.
Has somebody over-reach'd him in his way
Of damnable extortion; and he cut his throat,
Or swallowed poison?
Ʋin.
Ten times worse then that too.
Nat.
Is he then hoisted into the Star-Chamber
For his notorious practises? or into
The high Commission for his blacker arts?
Ed.
Worse then all this.
Nat.
Pax, keep it to your self then,
If you can think it be too good for me.
Why did you set me a longing? you cry worse
And ten times worse; and know as well as I,
The worse it is to him, the better wel-come
Ever to me: And yet you tell me nothing.
Ʋin.
He has married a young wife.
Nat.
Has he Cadzooks?
Ed.
We bring you no comfort, we.
Nat.
Nere go fine sport, Ha, ha, ha. What is she?
Would he had my wench, was here e [...]ne now,
What is she he has married? quickly prithe.
Ʋin.
One much too good for him.
Ed.
The beauteous Millicent.
Driven by the tempest of her Uncles will,
Is like a pinnace forc'd against the Rock.
Nat.
But he will never split her, that's the b [...]st on't.
[Page 7] I hope she'le break his heart first. Gentlemen,
I thank you for your news; and know what I
Will presently go do.
Vin.
Pray stay a little.
Ed.
And take us with you. What will you go do?
Nat.
That which we can all at once, Do not hold me.
Vin.
We came to cast a plot w'ye.
Nat.
Cast a pudding—How long ha'they been mar­ried?
Ed.
But this morning.
Nat.
You'l ha'me come too late.
Ne're go 'tis a shame he was not Cuckolded
'Fore Dinner.
Vin.
That had been a fine first course
At a wedding feast indeed. A little patience.
Nat.
Pray let me take my course 'fore supper yet.
Ed.
The business 'longs to us as much as you,
He has wrong'd us all alike. He has cozened us
As much as you.
Nat.
He has made me so poor
That my poor whore eene now claim'd marriage of me.
Vin.
The case is ours. His wrongs are common to us,
So shall his wife be, can we purchase her:
Did we bring you the news for you to run
And prevent us do you think?
Nat.
Pardon my zeal good Gentlemen; which onely
Considered but the fitness of the Act,
And that 'tis more then time 'twere done ifaith.
Enter The­ophilus & Arnold.
Ed.
And see here comes a fourth man that has lost
More on her part, then we upon the Bridegrooms.
Vin.
He's very sowre and sad. 'Tis crept upon him
By this untoward accident.
Nat.
'Twould anger any man to be nos'd of such a match;
But Ile remove his sorrow—
Gentle Theophilus, you are well met,
Your sorrow is familiar with us all
In the large loss of your betrothed love;
[Page 8] But, sir, be comforted: you have our pitty
And our revenge to ease you. Tis decreed
Her husband shall be instantly a Cuckold.
The.
Most sinfully thou lyest; and all that give
Breath to that foul opinion.
Draw and fight.
Nat.
What do you mean.
The.
Give me that thought from you; nay, from you all,
Or I will rip you for't.
Nat:
Zooks what mean you.
Ʋin.
Hold, Sir, forbear.
The.
Ile have that thought out first.
Nat.
I say he does deserve to be a Cuckold;
Let him be what he will, a pox upon him.
Ed. Ʋin.
So we say all.
The.
What's that to ill in her?
I stand upon that point. Mans evil merit's
No warrant for a womans dishonesty.
I say had shee a man forty degrees
Beneath his undeservings, twere more possible
For him to deceive her with a good Life,
Then shee him with a wicked.
Nat.
I say so too.
But then I say again, The more's the pitty.
The.
Do and undoe.
He hurts him.
Nat.
Zookes now your bitch has bit me,
I say he will be one, he shall be one;
Il'e make him one my self.
Ent. Ar. in his fals beard he sides with Theoph. Ext. Na [...]. Vin. Ed.
Ed. Ʋin.
And weell both help him.
Arn.
Why here's trim stuff. Help ho, Murder, Murder.
Art.
This is oppression gentlemen; an unmanly one.
Nat.
What devils this rais'd? fall off, tis an ill busi­ness.
Arn.
Have you no hurt Sir.
The.
No I'm confident.
Arn.
By your favour, I will see.
Arnold searche s Theoph.
Art.
What fortune's this,
I fought 'gainst friends to save mine enemy,
[Page 9] But I hope neither know me. I desire
To rest hid to my friends for my offence to them,
And to mine enemy, till I make him dearer.
Exit.
The.
I told thee there was [...]one.
Arn.
I'm glad it proves so.
The.
But wher's the Gentleman?
Arn.
Do you not know him sir?
The.
Not I, tis the first time that ere I saw him;
To my remembrance; yet he fought for me.
Beshrew thy idler care that made me lose him,
What should he be that so could fight for me,
Yet care not for my company? beshrew thy heart.
Why should he use me thus? I shall be sick to think on't.
I'm made beholding now to I know not whom;
And I'm the worst to sue or seek to a man—
Arn.
That scurvy, between proud and bashful quality,
You are famous for, as tother toy that haunts you.
The.
What's that?
Arn.
Why, to be deadly angry, sir,
On least occasion, and friends as quickly.
Hot and cold in a breath: you are angry now
With him that fought for you I warrant you.
The.
In troth I am, and friends with them I fought with;
He us'd me peevishly to leave me so,
Ere I could thank him.
Arn.
So tis that I told you.
The.
But did you mark th'humanity of my Gentlemen,
Cause shee's dispos'd by her self willed uncle
On that unworthy Quick sands (Devil take him)
They thought twould sound like musick in my ears
To hear her disgrace sung; when her fair honour
Is all I have to love, now shee's took from me:
And that they'd go about to rob me of.
Heaven grant me patience. O my slaughter'd father!
I am thy son, and know by thy infirmity.
Arn.
Me thinks, Sir, his example should allay you:
[Page 10] Impatience was his ruine.
The.
Push, we see
Thieves daily hang'd for Robberies; yet some
Go on still in the practice! What a fine
Is set upon the head of foul Adultery,
And yet our neighbours Wives can hardly scape us!
There's Lawes against extortion, and sad penalties
Set upon Bribes,
Yet great mens hands ha'their fore-fathers itch!
Prisons are fill'd with Banckrupts; yet we see
How cra [...]ty Merchants often wrong their credits,
And Lond [...]ners flie to live at Amsterdam!
Nothing can banish Nature: That's the Moral.
Arn.
It was indeed your Fathers known infirmity,
And ever incident to the noblest Natures.
But of your Father, is there yet no hope
Of better news?
The.
No, certainly he's slain.
Arn.
I have not heard a story of more wonder;
That two such men, of such estates and years,
Having liv'd alwayes friends and neighbours nearly,
Should at the last fall out so mortally
On a poor cast at bowles! Where wast they sought?
The.
It is uncertain. All we heard of'em
Was, they rode sorth ('tis now a whole year past)
Singly to end their quarrel: But to what
Part of the kingdom, or the world they took,
We can by no inquiry find or hear
Of either of them. Sure they crost the Seas,
And both are slain.
Arn.
You speak poor comfort Sir.
The.
I speak as my heart finds. She's gone for ever too;
Her hearts desire be with her.
Arn.
Now he's there again.
The.
Then my poor Sisters sickness; that torments me,
Never in health since our dear Father left us.
Arn.
[Page 11]
And now there.
The.
How shall I do to see these men again?
I shall not be at rest till I be friends with'em.
Arn.
Why here's the noble nature still. 'Twil shew it self.
The.
I'le seek'em out. Nathaniel alwayes lov'd me.
Exit.
Arn.
Here's an unsettled humor. In these fits
Hel'e nere be mad, nor ever well in's wits.
Exit.

ACT 1. SCENE 3.

Testy. Quicksands. Millicent.
Tes.
Go to I say, go to; as y're my Neece,
And hope t'inherit any thing that's mine:
Shake off this Maiden peevishness. Do you whimper
Upon your wedding day? Or, do you think
You are not married yet? Did you not say
I Millicent take Mandevill? A ha!
Was it not so? Did not I give you too?
I that have bred you from the cradle up
To a fit growth to match with his fair years;
And far more fair estate.
Mil.
I, there's the Match—
Tes.
Love him I charge you.
Mil.
Ile endeavour't Sir.
Tes.
You will endeavour't! Is't no further yet?
Stand from her, Nephew! I'le so swinge her. Ha!
Quick.
Let me intreat your patience. She's my wife Sir.
Tes.
Dandle her in her humour, do; and spoyle her.
Quick.
'Tis but her modesty.
Tes.
Her sullen doggedness,
I'le baste it out of her. You do not know her
As I do, Nephew.
Quick.
I shall, Sir, before morning
Better I doubt not. Come we shall agree.
Tes.
You will endeavour't! Come I'le see it done.
[Page 12] Marry a man first, and then endeavour
To love him will you? Ha! Is it but so?
I'le see you love him presently. So to bed.
Mil.
What before Supper?
Tes.
A posset and to bed,
I'le see it done. And cause you are so nice
(To bed I say) there I will see more done
Then I will speak. Tell me of your endeavour!
Quick.
Be not so rough and stiffe with her, good Uncle,
I know my supple tender dealing will
Get more upon her love then all your chidings.
Tes.
Such tender dealers spoyle young Brides; and get
Nothing of stubborness. Down with her I say
Now in her wedding sheets: She will be naught else.
Mil.
Construe more charitably, I beseech you,
My Virgin blushes.
Tes.
'Tis your sullenness;
Would you have brided it so lumpishly
With your spruce younker, that fine silken beggar,
Whose Land lies in your Husbands counting house;
Or the most part.
Mil.
O my Theophilus.
Quick.
Indeed the better half; not without hope
To have the rest as he may want my money.
Tes.
Would you have whin'd and pul'd, had you had him,
To bedward think you? yet to speak the truth,
And that wherein she has vext me a thousand times,
I never saw her laugh, nor heard her sing
In all my life: yet she could both, I have heard,
In company she lik'd.
Mil.
It has been' mong Maidens then.
But honour'd Sir (I know what I will do)
To let you see and hear, since you desire
To have me shew a cheerfulness unto
My reverend Husband: Look you Sir, I'le kiss him,
Clap him, and stroke him: Ha, my Joe, ha, ha, ha, &c.
Tes.
[Page 13]
H [...]y day.
Quick.
She'l make me blush anon I think.
Mil.
I'le sing him songs too.
Tes.
Whoop, how's this?
Mil.
That I will chick, old songs and over old ones,
Old as thy reverend self, my Chick a bird.
Quic.
She cals me chick and bird: The common names
With wives that Cuck [...]ld their old cravend husbands.
Mil.
(Shee sings)
She made him a bed of the thistle down soft,
Shee laid her self under to bear him a loft,
And ever she sung sweet turn thee to me,
Wee'l make the new bed cry Jiggy Joggy.
Tes.
What impudence is this.
Quic.
Shee's gon as far
Beyond it now as it was to't.
Mil.
Now may you answer.
(Shee sings)
Go to bed sweet heart I'le come to thee,
Make thy bed fine and soft I'le lig with thee. Ha, ha, ha.
Quic.
Is this your bashful Neece.
Tes.
What canst thou mean by this? dos this become thee?
Mil.
Pray do not beat me o'my wedding might, but tell me
How this and half a dozen chopping Children may
Become an old mans wife some five years hence.
Quic.
O intollerabl!
Tes.
Is't possible thou canst do thus?
Mil.
Let women judge. Tis very possible
That a young Iusty wife may have six Children
By one at once in five years, Sir, and by
One Father too. Ile make him young enough
To Father mine.
Quic.
Shee'l make a youth of me.
Mil.
(She sings.)
There was a Lady lov'd a swine.
Honey, quoth she,
And wil [...] thou be true love mine.
Hoogh, quoth he.
Tes.
[Page 14]
Do you hear gentlewoman; are you i' your wits?
Mil.
Yes, and my own house I hope. I pray be civil.
Shall we to bed, Sir, supperless? you need
No stirring meats, it seems. I'm glad on' [...].
Come, biddy, come away, will you see Uncle
How I will love him [...]oed? come away.
Quic.
My edge is taken off. this impudence
Of hers, has outfac'd my concupisence.
Dasht all quite out o' Countenance! what a beast
Was I to marry? Rather, what a beast
Am I to be? * How now! O horrible.
A sowgelders horn blown.
Tes.
What hidious noise is this.
Buz.
I cannot help it.
Ent. Buzzard.
While I went forth for the half pint of Sack
To make your prodigal posset; and the maid
(Watching the Milk, for running ore) sorgot
To shut the door, they all rush'd in.
Quic.
What they, what all?
Buz.
Vizarded people, Sir, and odly shap'd.
You'l see anon. Their tuning o'their pipes,
And swear they'll gi'ye a willy nilly dance
Before you go to bed, tho'you stole your Marriage.
Quic.
Outragious Roysters.
Tes.
Call and raise the street.
Mil.
That were to let in violence indeed.
These are some merry harmeless friends I warrant.
I knew I could not be so ill belov'd
Among the batchelers, but some would find
Way to congratulate our honoured Marriage.
Quic.
What, with horn musick?
Tes.
A new kind of flourish.
Quic.
Tis a flat conspiracy.
This is [...]our bash [...]ul modest whimpring Neece.
Tes.
Then let'em in. If they wrong us to night,
The Law to morrow shall af [...]ord us right.
[Page 15] Pray let's resolveto s [...]et. Here comes their Prologue.
flo [...]ish,
Mer
At a late Parliment held by the Gods,
Ent. Mercury.
Cupid and Hymen [...]ell at bitter ods
Upon an argument; wherein each did try
T'advance his own 'bove tothers deity,
Out of this question, which might happier prove
Love without Marriage, or Marriage without love.
By the effects the tryal must be made:
So each from others Office drew his aid;
Cupid no more of Hymens matches fram'd;
Nor Hymen married those that love inflam'd.
Now mark, the sad effects this strife begot,
Cupid his fiery darts and arrows shot
As thick as ere he did; and equal hearts
He wounds with equal love. But Hymen parts
Their forward hands (alas!) and joyneth none
But those which his new match-Maker brings on,
(Old greedy Avarice) who by his spells,
In breasts of Parents and of guardians dwells,
That force their tendelings to loathed beds;
Which uncouth Policie to sorrow leads
Thousands a thousand wayes, of which the least
Is this with which we celebrate your feast.
Tes.
A special drove of horn beasts.
Enter four Masquers with horns on their heads: a Stag, a Ram, and Goa [...], a a [...] Ox followed by four persons, a Cour­tier, a Captain, a Schollar and a But­cher.
Mer.
These few are thought enough to shew how more
Would appear horrible, the town hath store.
The first's a Lawyer, who by strife prevail'd
To wed a wife, that was by love in­tail'd
Unto that Courtier, who had the hap
Soon after to adorn him with that cap.
The next a country cormorant, whose great wealth,
[Page 16] By a bad fathers will, obtain'd by stealth
That valiant Souldiers Mistress: [...]or which matter
The Enginier his sconse with Rams did batter.
This an old Goatish Usure, that must
Needs buy a wretches daughter to his lust;
Doated, and married her without a groat,
That Herald gave this crest unto his coat.
And that's the Citizen, so broadly pated,
Which this mad Butcher, cuckold antidated.
Now by this dance let husband that doth wed
Bride from her proper love to loathed bed
Observe his fortune. Musick strike aloud
The cuckolds joy, with merry pipe & crowd.
They dance to mu­sick of Cornets & Violins.
The Daunce.
Exit, Masquers.
Tes.
How now! all vanisht! The devil take the hidmost.
Qui.
The foremost I say; and lay him a block
For all the rest to break their necks upon.
Tes.
Who are they? Can you guesse.
Mil.
Truly, not I Sir.
Some of my husbands friends perhaps, that came
To warn him of his fortune.
Qui.
Well consider'd.
Mil.
Lock the doors after 'em, and let us to bed;
And lock our selves up, chick, safe from all danger.
Qui.
We will to bed chick, since you'l have it so.
This key shall be your guard: And here's another
Shall secure me. My house has store of beds in't.
I bring you not to an unfurnisht dwelling.
Mil.
Be not afraid to lie with me, good man,
Ile so restore thee' gain with Cawdels and Cock-broths,
So cuckle the up to morrow, thou shalt see—
Quic.
O immodestie.
Mil.
Thou hast good store of goid, and shalt not want it
In Cullises: in every broth Ile boil
[Page 17] An angel at the least.
Qui.
Ile hang first.
Tes.
I am quite out of wits; and yet Ile counsel
Thee, Nephew. Heark thee.
They whisper.
Buz.
Tis like to be mad counsel.
Mil.
But will you not lie with me then?
Tes.
No marry shall he not.
Nephew, You shall not, till shee bride it modestly.
Tis now too late, but Ile so rattle her up to morrow.
Buz.
Tis too late now, & yet he' [...] do't to morrow! good!
Tes.
Will you to your lodging?
Mil.
Where be my bride-maids?
Tes.
They wait you in your chamber.
Buz.

The devil o'maid's i'chis but my fellow Madg the Kitching maid, and Malkin the Cat, or batchelor but my self, and an old Fox, that my master has kept a prentiship to palliate his palsie.

Mil.
Where be the maids, I say; and Batchelors
To disappoint my husband.
Qui.
Mark you that?
Mil.
I mean, to take your points. But you have none.
O thrifty age! My Bridegroom is so wise,
In stead of points, to hazzard hooks and eyes.
Buz.
Shee means the eyes in's head, Ile hang else.
My Master is like to make a blind match here.
Tes.
Take up the lights, sirrah.
Qui.
I hope she talks so idly, but for want
Of sleep; and sleep she shall for me to night.
Tes.
And well said Nephew. Will you to your chamber, Mistress?—
Mil.
Hey ho, to bed, to bed, to bed.
No Bride so glad—to keep her Maiden-head.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT 2. SCENE 1.

Lucy. Phillis.
Lu.
Y'are the first Maid that ere I entertain'd
Upon so small acquaintance. Yet y'are welcom,
I like your hand and carriage.
Phi.
'Tis your favour.
But love, they say sweet Mistriss, is receiv'd
At the first sight, and why not service then,
Which often brings more absolute returns
Of the dear trust impos'd, and firmer faith
By Servants then by lovers?
Lu.
Stay there Phillis.
I may, by that, conjecture you have been
Deceiv' by some false Lover.
Phi.
Who, I Mistriss?
I hope I look too merrily for such a one,
Somewhat too coursly too, to be belov'd;
If I were sad and handsome, then it might
Be thought I were a little love sick. Pray
How long has this disease affected you;
This melancholy, Mistriss? Not ever since
You lost your father I hope.
Lu.
For the most part.
Thou saidst, me thought, that love might be tane in
At the first fight
Phi.
There 'tis. I find her.
Love, Mistriss? yes, a Maid may take in more
Love at one look, or at a little loop-hole,
Then all the Doddy poles in Town can purge
Out of her while she lives; she smothring it,
And not make known her passion. There's the mischie▪
Lu.
Suppose she love an enemy to her house.
Phi.
An enemy! Put case the case were yours.
Lu.
[Page 19]
But 'tis no case of mine; put by I pray thee.
Phi.
I'le put it to you though I miss your case.
Suppose it were your house, and Master Arthur,
Whose father was your fathers enemy,
Were your belov'd—
Lu.
Pray thee no more.
Phi.
Now I have struck the vein. Suppose I say,
All this were true; would you confound your self
In smothering your love, which, in it self,
Is pure and innocent, until it grow
To a pernicious disease within you;
And hide it in your bosom, till it work
Your kindled heart to ashes?
Lu.
Thou hast won
My patience to attention: Therefore tell me
If thou canst find or think it honourable
In me to take such an affection?
Phi.
Yes, and religious; most commendable,
Could you but win his love into a marriage,
To beget peace between your families.
How many, and what great examples have we,
From former ages, and of later times,
Of strong dissentions between furious factions,
That to their opposite houses have drawn in
Eithers Allies and F [...]iends, whole Provinces,
Yea, Kingdoms into deadly opposition;
Till the wide wounds on both sides have sent forth
Rivers of blood, which onely have been stop'd
By the fost bands of love in marriages
Of equal branches, sprung from the first roots
Of all those Hell-bred hatreds!
Lu.
My good Maid—
Phi.
Yes, I have been a good one to my grief.
Lu.
Thou hast given me strength to tell thee, and I hope
When it is told, I shall have yet more ease.
Phi.
I warrant you Mistriss. Therefore out with it.
Lu.
[Page 20]
I love that worthy Gentleman; and am confident
That in the time of our two fathers friendship
He' affected me no less: But since that time
I have not seen him, nor dare mention him
To wrong my brothers patience, who is so passionate,
That could he but suspect I bred a thought
That favour'd him, I were for ever lost.
For this sad cause, as well as for the loss
Of my dear Father, I have sigh'd away
Twelve Moons in silent sorrow; and have heard
That Arthur too (but for what cause I know not)
Has not been seen abroad; but spends his time
In pensive solitude.
Phi.
Perhaps he grieves
As much for the supposed loss of you,
As of his Father too.
Lu.
The best construction,
I make of his retiredness, is the blest
Prevention (which I daily pray for) of
A fatal meeting 'twixt him an [...] my Brother,
Which would be sure the death of one or both.
And now that fear invades me, as it does alwayes,
My Brother being abroad; and such an absence
Has not been usual: I have not seen him
Since yesterday—
Phi.
Fear nothing, Mistriss. Now you have eas'd your mind,
Let me alone to comfort you. And see your Brother.
The.
How is it with you Sister?
Enter Theoph.
Phi.
Much better now then when you le [...]t me Brother,
If no ill accident has happened you
Since your departure; as I fear there has:
Why look you else so sadly? speak, dear Brother.
I hope you did not meet the man you hate.
If you did, speak. If you have fought and slain him,
I charge you tell, that I may know the worst
Of fortune can befal me: I shall gain
[Page 21] Perhaps a death by't.
The.
You speak as if you lov'd the man I hate,
And that you fear I have kil'd him.
Phi.
Not for love
Of him I assure you Sir; but of your self.
Her fear in this case, Sir, is that the Law
May take from her the comfort of her life
In taking you from her, and so she were
But a dead woman. We were speaking
Of such a danger just as you came in;
And truly, Sir, my heart even tremble-tremble-trembles,
To think upon it yet. Pray, Sir, resolve her.
The.
Then 'twas your frivolous fear that wrought in her.
Good Sister be at peace: for, by my love to you,
(An oath I will not violate) I neither saw
Nor sought him, I. But other thoughts perplex me.
Lu.
What, were you at the wedding, Brother?
The.
Whose wedding, Sister?
Lu.
Your lost love Millicents. Are you now sad
After your last leave taking?
The.
What do you mean?
Lu.
There may be other matches, my good Brother—
The.
You wrong me shamefully, to think that I
Can think of other then her memorie.
Though she be lost and dead to me, can you
Be so unnatural as to desire
The separation of a thought of mine
From her dear memorie; which is all the comfort
My heart is married to, or I can live by.
Phi.
Surely good Sir, in my opinion,
Sharp, eager stomacks may be better fed
With a'ery smell of meat, then the bare thought
Of the most curious dainties—
The.
What piece of impudence have you receiv'd
Into my house?
Lu.
Pray Brother pardon me.
[Page 22] I took her, as I find her, for my comfort,
She has by councel and discourse wrought much
Ease and delight into my troubled thoughts.
The.
Good Maid forgive me; and my gentle Sister,
I pray thee bear with my destractions.
Phi.
A good natur'd Gentleman for all his hasty flashes.
The.
And now I'le tell you Sister (do not chide me)
I have a new affliction.
Lu.
What is it brother?
The.
I am ingag'd unto a Gentleman,
(A noble valiant Gentleman) for my life,
By hazarding his own, in my behalf.
Lu.
It was then against Arthur.
What villain was't durst take your cause in hand
Against that man?
The.
You wrong me beyond suffrance,
And my dear fathers blood within your self,
In seeming careful of that mans safety—
Phi.
His safety Sir? Alas! she means, he is
A villain that would take the honor of
His death out of your hands, if he must fall
By sword of man.
The.
Again, I ask you pardon. But I had
A quarrel yesterday, that drew strong odds
Upon my single person; Three to one:
When, at the instant, that brave Gentleman
With his sword, sides me, puts'em all to flight—
Lu.
But how can that afflict you?
The.
How quick you are!
Lu.
Good Brother I ha'done.
The.
My affliction is,
That I not know the man, to whom I am
So much ingag'd, to give him thanks at least.
Enter Nath.
O Sir y'are welcome, though we parted somewhat
Abruptly yesterday.
Nat.
I thank you Sir.
The.
[Page 23]
Pray thee Nat. tell me, for I hope thou know'st him;
What Gentleman was that came in betwixt us?
Nat.
If the devil know him no better, he will lose
A part of his due I think. But to the purpose,
I knew your wonted nature would be friends
With me before I could come at you. However, I
Have news for you that might deserve your love,
Were you my deadly enemy.
The.
What is't pray thee?
Nat.
Sweet Mist [...]iss Lucy so long unsaluted?
Kiss.
Lu.
My Brother attends your news Sir.
Nat.
My Wench become her Chamber-maid! very pretty!
How the Jade mumps for fear I should discover her.
The.
Your news good Nat? what is it ready made,
Or are you now but coining it?
Nat.
No, it was coin'd last night, o'the right stamp,
And passes current for your good. Now know,
That I, and Mun, and Vince, with divers others
Of our Comrades, were last night at the Bride-house.
The.
What mischief did you there?
Nat.
A Masque, a Masque lad, in which we presented
The miseries of inforced Marriages
So lively—Zooks, lay by your captious countenance,
And hear me handsomely.
Lu.
Good brother do, it has a fine beginning.
Nat.
But mark what follows;
This morning, early up we got again,
And with our Fidlers made a fresh assault
And battery 'gainst the bed-rid bride-grooms window,
With an old song, a very wondrous old one,
Of all the cares, vexations, fears and torments,
That a decrepit, nasty, rotten Husband
Meets in a youthful, beauteous, sprightly wife:
So as the weak wretch will shortly be afraid,
That his own feebler shadow makes him Cuckold.
[Page 24] Our Masque o're night begat a separation
Betwixt'em before bed time: for we found
Him at one window, coughing and spitting at us;
She at another, laughing, and throwing money
Down to the Fidlers, while her Uncle Testy,
From a third Port-hole raves, denouncing Law,
And thundring statutes 'gainst their Minstralsie.
Lucy.
Would he refuse his bride-bed the first night?
Phi.
Hang him.
Nat.
Our Horn-masque put him off it, (bless my in­vention)
For which, I think, you'l Judge she'le forsake him
All nights and dayes hereafter. Here's a blessing
Prepard now for you, if you have grace to follow it.
The.
Out of my house, that I may kill thee; Go:
For here it were inhospitable. Hence,
Thou busie vaillain, that with sugard malice
Hast poyson'd all my hopes; ruin'd my comforts
In that sweet soul for ever. Go, I say,
That I may with the safety of my man-hood,
Right me upon that mischievous head of thine.
Nat.
Is this your way of thanks for courtesies;
Or is't our luck alwayes to meet good friends,
And never part so? yet before I go,
I will demand your reason (if you have any)
Wherein our friendly care can prejudice you;
Or poyson any hopes of yours in Millicent?
Lu.
Pray brother tell him.
The.
Yes: that he may die
Satisfied, that I did but Justice on him,
In killing him. That villain, old in mischief,
(Hell take him) that has married her, conceives
It was my plot (I know he does) and, for
A sure revenge, will either work her death
By poyson, or some other cruelty,
Or keep her lock'd up in such misery,
[Page 25] That I shall never see her more.
Nat.
I answer—
The.
Not in a word, let me intreat you, go.
Nat.
Fair Mistriss Lucy—
The.
Neither shall she hear you.
Nat.
Her Maid shall then: or I'le not out to night.
Phil.
On what acquaintance Sir.
He takes her aside.
Nat.
Be not afraid: I take no notice o'thee,
I like thy course, Wench, and will keep thy councel,
And come sometimes, and bring thee a bit and th'wilt.
Phi.
I'le see you choak'd first.
Nat.
Thou art not the first
Cast Wench that has made a good Chamber-maid.
Phi.
O you are base, and I could claw your eyes out.
Nat.
Pray tell your Master now: so fare you well Sir.
Exit.
Lu.
I thank you, Brother, that you promise me
You will not follow him now, some other time
Will be more fit. What said he to you, Phillis?
Phi.
Marry he said (help me good apron strings.)
The.
What was it that he said?
Phi.
I have it now.
It was in answer, Sir, of your objections.
First, that you fear'd the old man, wickedly,
Would make away his wife: to which he saies,
That is not to be fear'd, while she has so
Much fear of Heaven before her eyes. And next,
That he would lock her up from sight of man:
To which he answers, she is so indued
With wit of woman, that were she lock'd up,
Or had locks hung upon her, locks upon locks;
Locks of prevention, or security:
Yet being a woman, she would have her will;
And break those locks as easily as her Wedlock.
Lastly, for your access unto her sight;
If you have Land he saies to sell or Mortgage,
He'le undertake his doors, his wife and all,
[Page 26] Shall fly wide open to you,
The.
He could not lay so.
Lu.
Troth, but tis like his wild way of expression.
Phi.
Yes; I knew that: my wit else had been puzzl'd.
The.
And now I find my self instructed by him;
And friends with him again. Now, Arnold, any tidings.
Ar.
Not of the gentleman that sought for you. Ent. Arn.
But I have other newes thats worth your knowledge.
Your enemy, young Arthur, that has not
Been seen abroad this twel'moneth is got forth
In a disguise I hear, and weapon'd well.
I have it from most sure inteligence.
Look to your self, sir.
Lu.
My blood chills again.
The.
Pseugh, Ile not think of him. To dinner sister.

ACT. 2 SCENE. 2.

Quick-sands. Testy. Millicent.
Qui.
Here was a good night, and good morrow to
Given by a crew of Devils.
Tes.
'Twas her plot,
And let her smart [...]or'c.
Mil.
Smart, Sir, did you say?
I think 'twas smart enough for a young Bride
To be made lye alone, and gnaw the sheets
Upon her wedding.
Tes.
Rare impudence!
Mil.
But for your satisfaction, as I hope
To gain your favour as you are my Uncle,
I know not any acter in this business.
Ent. Buz. with a paper. Quick reads it.
Buz.
Sir, her's a letter thrown into the entry.
Tes.
It is some villanous libel then I warrant.
Sawst thou not who convai'd it in?
Buz.
Not 1. I onely found it, Sr.
Qui.
[Page 27]
Pray read it you. Not my own house free from'em!
The devil ow'd me a spight; and when he has plow'd
An old mans lust up, he sits grinning at him.
Nay, I that have so many gallant enemies
On fire, to do me mischief, or disgrace;
That I must provide tinder for their sparks!
The very thought bears weight enough to sink me.
Mil.
May I be worthy, Sir, to know your trouble?
Qui.
Do you know your self?
Mil.
Am I your trouble then?
Qui.
Tis sworn and written in that letter there
Thou shalt be wicked. Hundreds have tane oaths
To make thee false, and me a horned Monster.
Mil.
And does that trouble you?
Tes.
Does it not you?
Mil.
A dream has done much more. Pray, Sir, your pa­tience,
And now I will be serious, and endeavour
To mend your faith in me. Is't in their power
To destroy vertue, think you; or do you
Suppose me false already; tis perhaps
Their plot to drive you into that opinion.
And so to make you cast me out amongst'em:
You may do so upon the words of strangers;
And if they tell you all, your gold is counterfeit,
Throw that out after me.
Tes.
Now shee speaks woman.
Mil.
But since these men pretend, and you suppose'em
To be my friends, that carry this presumption
Over my will, Ile take charge of my self,
And do fair justice, both on them and you:
My honour is my own; and i'm no more
Yours yet, on whom my Uncle has bestowed me,
Then all the worlds (the ceremony off)
And will remain so, free from them and you;
Who, by the false light of their wild-fire flashes
Have slighted and deprav'd me and your bride bed;
[Page 28] Till you recant your wilfull ignorance,
And they their petulant folly.
Tes.
This sounds well.
Mil.
Both they and you trench on my Peace and Honor;
Dearer then beauty, pleasure wealth and fortune;
I would stand under the fall of my estate
Most chearefully, and sing: For there be wayes
To raise up fortunes ruines, were her towers
Shattered in pieces, and the glorious ball
Shee stands on cleft asunder: But for Peace
Once ruin'd, there's no reparation;
If Honour fall, which is the soul of life,
Tis like the damned, it nere lifts the head
Up to the light again.
Tes.
Neece, thou hast won mee;
And Nephew, she's to good for you. I charge you
Give her her will: Ile have her home again else.
Qui.
I know not what I can deny her now.
Mil.
I ask but this, that you will give me leave
To keep a vow I made, which was last night
Because you flighted me.
Tes.
Stay there a little.
I'le lay the price of twenty Maidenheads
Now, as the market goes, you get not hers
This seav'night.
Mil.
My vow is for a moneth; and for so long
I crave your faithful promise not to attempt me.
In the mean time because I will be quit
With my trim, forward Gentlemen, and secure you
From their assaults; let it be given out,
That you have sent me down into the countrey
Or back unto my Uncles; whither you please.
Quic.
Or, tarry, tarry—stay, stay here a while.
Mil.
So I intend, Sir, Ile not leave your house,
But be lock'd up in some convenient room
Not to be seen by any, but your selfe▪
[Page 29] Or else to have the liberty of your house
In some disguise, (if it were possible)
Free from the least suspition of your servants.
Tes.
What needs all this?
Do we not live in a well govern'd City?
And have not I authority? Ile take
The care and guard of you and of your house
'Gainst all outragious attempts; and clap
Those Goatish Roarers up, fast as they come.
Quic.
I understand her drist, Sir, and applaud
Her quaint devise. Twill put 'em to more trouble,
And more expence in doubtful search of her,
The best way to undo 'em is to foil'em
At their own weapons. Tis not to be thought
The'l seek, by violence to force her from me,
But wit; In which wee'l overcome'em.
Tes.
Agree on't twixt your selves. I see y'are friends.
I'le leave you to your selves.
Heark hither Neece—Now I dare trust you with him:
He is in yeares, tis true. But hear'st thou girl
Old Foxes are best blades.
Mil.
I'm sure they stink most.
Tes.
Good keeping makes him bright and young a­gain.
Mil.
But for how long.
Tes.
A year or two perhaps.
Then, when he dies, his wealth makes thee a Countess.
Mil.
You speak much comfort, Sir.
Tes.
That's my good Girl.
And Nephew, Love her, I find she deserves it;
Be as benevolent to her as you can;
Shew your good will at least. You do not know
How the good will of an old man may work
In a young wife. I must now take my journey
Down to my countrey house. At your moneths end
Ile visit you again. No ceremony
Joy and content be with you.
Quic. Mil.
And a good journey to you.
Exit Test.
Quic.
[Page 30]
You are content you say to be lock'd up
Or put in some disguise, and have it said
Y'are gone unto your Uncles. I have heard
Of some Bridegrooms, that shortly after Marriage
Have gone to see their Uncles, seldom Brides.
I have thought of another course.
Mil.
Be't any way.
Quic.
What if it were given out y'are run away
Out of a detestation of your match?
Mil.
'T would pull a blot upon my reputation.
Quic.
When they consider my unworthiness
'T will give it credit. They'l commend you for it.
Mil.
You speak well for your self.
Quic.
I speak as they'l speak.
Mil.
Well; let it be so then: I am content.
Quic.
Wee'l put this instantly in act. The rest,
As for disguise, or privacy in my house,
You'll leave to me.
Mil.
All, Sir, to your dispose,
Provided still you urge not to infringe
My vow concerning my virginity.
Quic.
Tis the least thing I think on,
I will not offer at it till your time.
Mil.
Why here's a happiness in a husband now
exeunt.

ACT 2. SCENE 3.

Dionysia. Rafe.
Dio.
Thou tell'st me things, that truth never came near.
Ra.
Tis perfect truth: you may believe it. Lady.
Dio.
Maintain't but in one fillable more, Ile tear
Thy mischievious tongue out.
Ra.
Fit reward for Tell-troths.
But that's not the reward you promis'd me
[Page 31] For watching of your brothers actions;
You said forsooth (if't please you to remember)
That you would love me for it.
Dio.
Arrogant Rascal.
I bad thee bring account of what he did
Against his enemy; and thou reportst.
He took his enemies danger on himself,
And help't to rescue him whose bloody father
Kild ours. Can truth or common reason claim
A part in this report? My brother doe't!
Or draw a sword to help Theophilus.
Ra.
Tis not for any spight I ow my Master,
But for my itch at her that I do this.
I am strangely taken. Such brave spirited women
Have cherish'd strong back'd servingmen ere now.
Dio.
Why dost not get thee from my sight, false fellow?
Ra.
Ile be believed first. Therefore pray have patience
To peruse that.
gives her a paper.
Dio.
My brothers charecter!
Theophilus sisters name—The brighter Lucy
So often written? nothing but her name—
But change of attributes—one serves not twice.
Blessed, divine, Illustrious, all perfection;
And (so heaven bless me) powerful in one place.
The worst thing I read yet, heap of all vertues—
Bright shining, and all these ascrib'd to Lucy.
O I could curse thee now for being so just
Would thou had'st belied him still.
Ra.
I nere belied him, I.
Dio.
O mischief of affection! Monstrous! horrid.
It shall not pass so quietly. Nay stay.
Ra.
Shee'l cut my throat I fear.
Dio.
Thou art a faithful servant.
Ra.
It may do yet:
To you I am sweet Lady, and to my master
In true construction: he is his friend I think
[Page 32] That finds his follies out to have them cur'd,
Which you have onely the true spirit to do.
Dio.
How I do love thee now!
Ra.
And your love Mistress,
(Brave sprightly Mistress) is the steeple top
Or rather Weathercock o'top of that
To which aspires my lifes ambition.
Dio.
How didst thou get this paper.
Ra.
Amongst many
Of his rare twelve-moneths melancholy works,
That lie in's study. Mistress tis apparent
His melancholy all this while has been
More for her Love, then for his fathers death.
Dio.
Thou hast my love for ever.
Ra.
Some small token
In earnest of it. Mistress, would be felt,
He offers to kiss her, she strikes him.
Dio.
Take that in earnest then.
Ra.
It is a sure one.
And the most feeling pledge she could have given:
For she is a virago. And I have read
That your viragoes use to strike all those
They mean to lie with: And from thence tis taken
That your brave active women are call'd strikers.
Dio.
Set me that chair.
Ra.
The warm touch of my flesh
Already works in her. I shall be set
To better work immediately. I am prevented.
A way and be not seen. Be sure I love thee.
Enter Arthur.
Ra.
A ha! This clinches. Another time I'm, sure on'c.
Exit.
Ar.
Sister! where are you? How now! not well or
(She sits.
Dio.
Sick brother—sick at heart, oh—(sleepy.
Ar.
Passion of heart! where are our servants now
To run for doctors? ho—
Dio.
Pray stay and hear me.
Her's no work for them. They'l find a master here
Too powerful for the strength of all their knowledge.
Ar.
[Page 33]
What at thy heart?
Dio.
Yes, brother, at my heart.
Too scornful to be dispossest by them.
Ar.
What may that proud grief be? good sister name it.
Dio.
It grieves me more to name it, then to suffer't.
Since I have endur'd the worst on't, and prov'd constant
To sufferance and silence, twere a weakness
Now to betray a sorrow, by a name,
More fit to be severely felt then known.
Ar.
Indeed I'le know it.
Dio.
Rather let me die,
Then so afflict your understanding, Sir.
Ar.
It shall not afflict me.
Dio.
I know you'l chide me for't.
Ar.
Indeed you wrong me now. Can I chide you?
Dio.
If you be true and honest you must do't,
And hartily.
Ar.
You tax me nearly there.
Dio.
And that's the physick must help me or nothing:
Ar.
With grief I go about to cure a grief then.
Now speak it boldly, Sister.
Dio.
Noble Physitian—It is—
Ar.
It is! what is it? If you love me, speak.
Dio.
Tis—love and I beseech thee spare me not.
Ar.
Alas dear sister, canst thou think that love
Deserves a chiding in a gentle breast?
Dio.
Do you pitty me already. O faint man
That tremblest but at opening of a wound!
What hope is there of thee to search and dress it?
But I am in thy hands, and forc'd to try thee.
I love —Theophilus—
Ar.
Ha!
Dio.
Theophilus, brother;
His son that slew our father. Ther's a love!
O more then time 'twere look'd, for fear it festers.
Ar.
S [...]e has put me to't indeed. What must I do?
[Page 34] She has a violent spirit; so has he;
And though I wish most seriously the match,
Whereby to work mine own with his fair Sister,
The danger yet, in the negotiation
May quite destroy my course; spoyle all my hopes.
Ile therefore put her off on't if I can.
Dio.
Can you be tender now?
Ar.
What! To undo you?
I love you not so slightly. Pardon me.
A rough hand must be us'd: For here's a wound
Must not be gently touch'd; you perish then,
Under a Brothers pitty. Pray sit quiet;
For you must suffer all.
Dio.
I'le strive to do it.
Ar.
To love the Son of him that slew your Father!
To say it shews unlovingness of nature;
Forgetfulness in blood, were all but shallow
To the great depth of danger your fault stands in.
It rather justifies the act it self,
And commends that down to posterity
By your blood-cherishing embraces. Children,
Born of your body, will, instead of tears,
By your example, offer a thankful joy
To the sad memory of their Gransiers slaughter.
Quite contrary! How fearful 'tis to think on't!
What may the world say too? There goes a daughter,
Whose strange desire leap'd from her Fathers ruine;
Death gave her to the Bride-groom; and the marriage
Knit fast and cemented with blood. O Sister—
Dio.
O Brother.
Ar.
How! Well? And so quickly cur'd?
Dio.
Dissembler; foul dissembler.
Ar.
This is plain.
Dio.
Th'hast play'd with fire; and like a cunning fel­low
Bit in thy pain o'purpose to deceive
Anothers tender touch. I know thy heart weeps
[Page 35] For what't has spoke against. Thou that darst love
The daughter of that Feind that slew thy father,
And plead against thy cause! unfeeling man,
Can not thy own words melt thee? To that end
I wrought and rais'd'em: 'T was to win thy health,
That I was sick; I play'd thy disease to thee,
That thou mightst see the loath'd complection on't,
Far truer in another then ones self.
And, if thou canst, after all this, tread wickedly,
Thou art a Rebel to all natural love,
And filial duty; dead to all just councel:
And every word thou mock'dst with vehemence
Will rise a wounded father in thy conscience,
To scourge thy Judgement. There's thy Saint crost out,
And all thy memory with her. I'le nere trust
She tears & throws the paper to him.
Revenge again with thee (so false is man­hood)
But take it now into mine own powerfully,
And see what I can do with my life's hazard;
Your purpose shall nere thrive. There I'le make sure work.
Exit.
Ar.
How wise and cunning is a womans malice;
I never was so cozened.
Exit.

ACT 3. SCENE 1.

Quick-sands. Buzzard. Madge.
Quic.
Out of my doors pernicious knave and harlot;
Avaunt I say.
Buz.
Good Master.
Mad.
Pray you worship.
Quic.
You have all the wages you are like to have.
Buz.
Nay, I dare take your word for that: you'l keep
All moneys fast enough whose ere it be,
If you but gripe it once.
Quic!
[Page 36]
I am undone,
And sham'd for ever by your negligence,
Or malice rather: for how can it be
She could depart my house without your knowledge.
Buz.
That cursed Mistris that ever she came here!
If I know of her flight, Sir, may these hands
Never be held up, but to curse you onely,
If you cashier me thus: because you have lost
your wife before she was well found, must we
Poor innocents be guilty?
Mad.
For my part,
Or ought I know she may as well be gone
Out o'the the chimney top as out o'door.
Quic.
The door must be your way; and find her out,
Or never find my door again. Be gone.
Buz.
Mad. O, you are a cruel Master.
Exit.
Quic.
So, so, so.
These cries are laughter to me: Ha, ha, ha.
I will be Master of my invention once,
And now be bold to see how rich I am
In my concealed wealth. Come, precious mark
Of beauty and perfection, at which envy
Enter Milicent.
And lust aim all their ranckling poysonous arrowes.
But Ile provide they nere shall touch thy blood.
Mil.
What, are your servants gone?
Quic.
Turn'd, turn'd away
With blame enough for thy suppos'd escape:
Which they will rumor so to my disgrace
Abroad, that all my envious adversaries
Will, betwixt joy of my conceiv'd misfortune
In thy dear loss, and their vain hopes to find thee,
Run frantick thorow the streets, while we at home
Sit safe, and laugh at their defeated malice.
Mil.
But now for my disguise.
Quic.
I, that, that, that.
[Page 37] Be but so good and gentle to thy self,
To hear me and be rul'd by me in that,
A Queens felicity falls short of thine.
Ile make thee Mistress of a Mine of treasure,
Give me but peace the way that I desire it—
Mil.
Some horrible shape sure that he conjures so.
Quic.
That I may fool iniquity, and Triumph
Over the lustful stallions of our time;
Bed-bounders, and leap-Ladies (as they terme'em)
Mount-Mistresses, diseases shackle'em,
And spittles pick their bones.
Mil.
Come to the point. What's the disguise, I pray you.
Qui.
First know, my sweet, it was the quaint devise
Of a Venetian Merchant, which I learnt
In my young factorship.
Mil.
That of the Moor?
The Backamore you spake of? Would you make
An Negro of me.
Qui.
You have past your word,
That if I urge not to infringe your vow
(For keeping this moneth your virginity)
You'l wear what shape I please. Now this shall both
Kill vain attemps in me, and guard you safe
From all that seek subversion of your honour.
Ile fear no powder'd spirits to haunt my house,
Rose-footed fiends, or fumigated Goblins
After this tincture's laid upon thy face,
'Twil cool their kidnies and allay their heats.
A box of black paint­ing.
Mil.
Bless me! you fright me, Sir. Can jealousie
Creep into such a shape? Would you blot out
Heavens workmanship?
Qui.
Why think'st thou, fearful Beauty,
Has heaven no part in Aegypt? Pray thee tell me,
Is not an Ethiopes face his workmanship
As well as the fair'st Ladies? nay, more too.
[Page 38] Then hers, that daubs and makes adulterate beauty?
Some can be pleas'd to lye in oyles and paste,
At sins appointment, which is thrice more wicked.
This (which is sacred) is for sins prevention.
Illustrious persons, nay, even Queens themselves
Have, for the glory of a nights presentment,
To grace the work, suffered as much as this.
Mil.
Enough Sir, I am obedient.
Quic.
Now I thank thee.
Be fearless love; this alters not thy beauty,
Though, for a time obscures it from our eyes.
Thou maist be, while at pleasure, like the Sun;
Thou dost but case thy splendor in a cloud,
To make the beam more precious in it shines.
In stormy troubled weather no Sun's seen
Sometimes a moneth together: 'Tis thy case now.
But let the roaring tempest once be over,
Shine out again and spare not.
Mil.
There's some comfort.
Quic.
Take pleasure in the scent first; smell to't fearlesly,
And taste my care in that, how comfortable
He begins to paint her.
'Tis to the nostril, and no foe to feature.
Now red and white those two united houses,
Whence beauty takes her fair name and descent,
Like peaceful Sisters under one Roof dwelling
For a small time; farewel. Oh let me kiss ye
Before I part with you—Now Jewels up
Into your Ebon Casket. And those eyes,
Those sparkling eyes, that send forth modest anger
To sindge the hand of so unkind a Painter,
And make me pull'c away and spoyle my work,
They will look streight like Diamonds, set in lead,
That yet retain their vertue and their value.
What murder have I done upon a cheek there!
But there's no pittying: 'Tis for peace and honour;
And pleasure must give way. Hold, take the Tincture,
[Page 39] And perfect what's amiss now by your glass.
Mil.
Some humbler habit must be thought on too.
Quic.
Please your own fancy. Take my keys of all;
In my pawn Wardrobe you shall find to fit you.
Mil.
And though I outwardly appear your Drudge,
'Tis fit I have a Maid for private service:
My breeding has not been to serve my self.
Exit. Mil.
Quic.
Trust to my care for that. One knock. In; in.
Is it to me your business?
Enter Phillis like a Cook-maid.
Phi.
Yea, if you
Be Master Quick-sands Sir; the Masters worship
Here o'the house.
Quic.
I am so. What's your business?
Phi.
'Tis upon that, Sir, I would speak Sir, hoping
That you will pardon my presumptuousness,
I am a Mother that do lack a service.
Quic.
You have said enough. I'le entertain no Mothers.
A good Maid servant, knew I where to find one.
Phi.
He is a knave, and like your worship, that
Dares say I am no Maid; and for a servant
(It ill becomes poor folks to praise themselves,
But) I were held a tydie one at home.
Quic.
O th'art a Norfolk woman (cry thee mercy)
Where Maids are Mothers, and Mothers are Maids.
Phi.
I have friends i'th'City that will pass their words
For my good bearing.
Quic.
Hast thou?
Phi.
Yes indeed, Sir.
I have a Cousen that is a Retorney
Of Lyons-Inn, that will not see me wrong'd;
And an old Aunt in Muggle-street, a Mid-wife,
That knows what's what as well's another woman.
Qui.
But where about in Norfolk wert thou bred?
Phi.
At Thripperstown Sir, near the City of Norwich.
Quick.
where they live much by spinning with the Rocks?
Phi.
Thripping they call it, Sir.
Quic.
[Page 40]
Dost thou not know one Hulverhead that keeps
An Innocent in's house.
Phi.
There are but few innocents i'the countrey Sr.
They are given too much to law for that: what should
That Hulverhead be a councellor, Sir.
Quic.
No a husband man.
Phi.
Truly I know none.
Quic.
I am glad she do's not. How knew'st thou I wanted
A servant.
Phi.
At an old wives house in Bow-lane
That places servants, where a maid came in
You put away to day.
Quic.
All, and what said she?
Phi.
Truly to speak the best and worst, forsooth,
She said her fault deserv'd her punishment
For letting of her Mistress run away.
Quic.
The nevves goes current. I am glad o'that.
Phi.
And that you were a very strict hard man,
But very just in all your promises.
And such a master vvould I serve to chuse.
Quic.
This innocent countrey Mother takes me.
Her looks speak Wholesomness; and that old vvoman
That Bovv lane purveyor hath fitted me
With serviceable ware these dozen years.
I'le keep her at the least this Gander moneth,
While my fair vvife lies in of her black face,
And virgin vovv; in hope she's for my turn.
Lust, vvhen it is restrained, the more tvvil burn.
Phi.
May I make bold to crave your ansvver, Sir?
Quic.
Come in, I'le talk vvith you.
Exit.
Phi.
Prosper novv my plot,
And hulk, thou art tvvixt vvind and vva [...]r shot.
Exit.

ACT 3. SCENE 2.

Nathaniel. Ʋincent. Edmond. Buzzard.
Boy.
Y'are welcome Gentlemen.
Nat.
Let's ha'good wine, Boy, that must be our welcome.
Boy.
You shall, you shall Sir.
Within. Ambrose, Ambrose;
Boy.
Here, here, anon, anon, by and by, I come, I come.
Ex.
Jerom, Jerom, draw a quart of the best Canary into the Apollo.
Buz.
This is a language that I have not heard.
You understand it, Gentlemen.
Ʋin.
So shall you anon master Buzzard.
Buz.
Your friend and Jonathan Buzzard kind gentlemen.
Nat.
What excellent luck had we, friend Buzzard, to
meet with thee, just as thy Master cast thee off.
Buz.
Just Sir, as I was going I know not whither:
And now I am arrived at just I know not where. Tis a
rich room, this. Is it not Goldsmiths hall.
Nat.
It is a Tavern man—And here comes the wine.
Fill boy—and her's to thee friend, a hearty draft to
chear thee—fill again boy—There, drink it off.
Ed.
Off with it man—hang sorrow, chear thy heart.
Buz.
And truly ti's the best chear that ere I tasted.
Ʋin.
Come tast it better, her's another to thee.
Buz.
—And truly this was better then the first.
Ed.
Then try a third. That may be best of all.
Buz.
—And truly, so it is—how many sorts of wine
May a vintner bring in one pot together?
Nat.
By Bacchus Mr. Buzzard, that's a subtil question.
Buz.
Bacchus! whose that I pray?
Ʋin.
A great friend of the vintners, and master of their company indeed.
Buz.
I was never in all my life so far in a tavern before.
What comforts have I lost.
Ed.
Now he begins to talk.
Buz.
[Page 42]

Nor ever was in all my two and twenty years under that Babilouian Tyrant Quicks ands, so far as a Vint­ners bar but thrice.

Nat.
But thrice in all that time?
Buz.

Truly but thrice Sir. And the first time was to fetch a jill of sack for my Master, to make a friend of his drink, that joyned with him in a purchase of sixteen thou­sand pound.

Ʋin.
I, there was thrist. More wine boy. A pottle and a beer bowl.
Buz.

The second time was for a penny pot of Musca­dine, which he drank all himself with an egge upon his wedding morning.

Nat.
And to much purpose, it seem'd by his wives run­ning away.
Buz.

The third and last time was for half a pint of sack upon his wedding night, of later memory; and I shall nere forget it, that riotous wedding night: when Hell broke loose, and all the devils danced at our house, which made my Master mad, whose raving made my mistriss run away, whose running away was the cause of my turn­ing away. O me, poor masterless wretch that I am.—O—

Na.
Hang thy master, here's a full bowl to his con­fusion.
Buz.
I thank you. Let it come Sir, ha, ha, ha.
Ʋin.
Think no more of Masters, friends are better then Masters.
Buz.

And you are all my friends kind gentlemen, I found it before in your money when my Master (whose confusion I have drunk) took your Mortgages; And now I find it in your wine. I thank you kind gentlemen still. O how I love kind Gentlemen.

Nat.
That shewes thou art of gentle blood thy self, friend Buzzard.
Buz.
Yes friend—Shall I call you friend?
All.
By all means, all of us.
Buz.

Why then, all friends, I am a gentleman, though spoild i'che breeding. The Buzzards are all gentlemen, [Page 43] We came in with the Conqueror. Our name (as the French has it) is Beau desert; which signifies—Friends, what does it signifie?

Ʋin.

It signifies, that you deserv'd fairly at your ma­sters hands, like a Gentleman, and a Buzzard as you were, and he turn'd you away most beastly like a swine, as he is. And now here is a health to him, that first finds his wife, and sends her home with a boun­cing boy in her belly for him to father.

Buz.
Ha, ha, ha. Ile pledge that: and then Ile tell you a secret.
Nat.
Well said friend; up with tha [...], and then out with thy secret.
Buz.
I will friend. And tother two friends, here's upon the same.
Ed.

I hope he will shew us a way, out of the bottom of his bowl to find his Mistresse.

Ʋin.
This fellow was happily found.
Buz.
This was an excellent draught.
Nat.

But the seeret, friend, out with that, you must keep no secrets amongst friends.

Buz.

It might prove a shrew'd matter against my mis­chevious Master as it may be handled.

Nat.
Hang him cullion, that would turn thee away.
Wee'l help thee to handle it, fear it not.
Buz.
Heark you then all friends. Shall I out with it?
Ʋin.
What else.
Buz.

Ile first take tother cup, and then out with't al­together—And now it comes—If my Mistress do bring him home a bastard, she's but even with him.

Nat.
He has one I warrant. Has he cadzooks?
Buz.

That he has by this most delicate drink. But it is the Arsivarsiest Aufe that ever crept into the world. Sure some Goblin got it for him; or chang'd it in the neast, thats certain.

Nat.
I vow thou utterest brave things. Is't a boy?
Buz.
[Page 44]

It has gone for a boy in short coats and long coats this seaven and twenty years.

Ed.
An Idiote is it.
Buz.

Yes: A very natural; and goes a thissen; and looks as old as I do too. And I think if my beard were off, I could be like him: I have taken great pains to practise his speech and action to make my self merry with him in the countrey.

Nat.
Where is he kept, friend, where is he kept.
Buz.

In the further side of Norfolk, where you must never see him. Tis now a dozen years since his father saw him, and then he compounded for a sum of mony with an old man, one Hulverhead, to keep him for his life time; and he never to hear of him. But I saw him within these three moneths. We hearken after him, as land-sick heirs do after their fathers, in hope to hear of his end at last.

Ʋin.

But heark you, friend, if your beard were off, could you be like him think you? What if you cut it off, and to him for a father.

Nat.
Pray thee hold thy peace.
Buz.
My beard, friend, no: My beard's my honour.
Hair is an ornament of honour upon man or woman.
Nat.

Come, come; I know what we will do with him. Mun, knock him down with the other cup. We'l lay him to sleep; but yet watch and keep him betwixt hawk and buzzard as he is, till we make excellent sport with him.

Buz.
Hey ho. I am very sleepy.
Nat.
See he jooks already. Boy shew us a private room.
Boy.
This way, Gentlemen.
Buz.
Down, Plumpton▪parke, &c.
They lead Buz. out, and he sings.

ACT. 3. SCENE. 3.

Lucy. Theophilus.
Lu.
Indeed you were unkind to turn away
M [...] maid (poor harmless maid) whose innocent mirth
Was the best chear your house afforded me.
The.
I am sorry sister, trust me, truly sorry,
And knew I which way to recover her
With my best care I would. Yet, give me leave,
I saw her overbold; and overheard her
Say, she foresaw that Arthur my sole enemy
Should be your husband. Ile marry you to death first.
Lu.
Now you fly out again.
The.
Your pardon again your sister,
And for your satisfaction I will strive
To oversway my passion. How now Arnold,
Ent. Arn.
Me thinks I read good newes upon thy face.
Ar.
The best, Sir, I can tell is, the old Jew
Quicksands has lost his wife.
The.
She is not dead,
Ar.
Tis not so well for him: for if she were
He then might overtake her though she were
Gone to the devil. But she's run away:
But to what corner of the earth, or under
Whose bed to find her is not to be thought.
It has rais'd such a laughter in the town
Among the Gallants—!
The.
And do you laugh too?
Ar.
Yes; and if you do not out-laugh all men
That hear the joyful newes, tis too good for you.
The.
I am too merciful, I kill thee not.
Out of my doors, thou villain, reprobate.
He beats Arnold.
Ar.
Hold, Pray Sir, hold.
The.
[Page 46]
Never while I have power to lift a hand
Against thee, mischievous Villain.
Lucy
Is not this passion, brother?
The.
Forbear, sister.
This is a cause turns patience into fury.
Lu.
Arnold, forbear his sight.
The.
And my house too.
Or villain, look to die, oft as I see thee.
Ext, The. Lu.
Arn.
Turn'd out o [...] doors! A dainty frantick humour
In a young Master! Good enough for me though;
Because tis proper to old serving-men
To be so serv'd. What course now must I take?
I am too old to seek out a new Master.
I will not beg, because Ile crosse the proverb
That runs upon old serving creatures; stealing
I have no minde to: Tis a hanging matter.
Wit and invention help me with some shift
He kneels.
To help a cast-off now at a dead lift.
Sweet fortune hear my suit.
Ent. Nat. Vin. Edm.
Nat.
Why how now, Arnold! What, at thy devotion?
Ar.
Ile tell you in your ear, sir, I dare trust you.
Nat & Arnold whisper.
Vi.
Could earthly man have dreamt this Rafcal
Quick sands.
Whose Letchery, to all our thinking, was
Nothing but greedy Avarice and cosonage,
Could have been all this while a conceal'd whoremaster,
To have a Bastard of so many years
Nursled i'th' Countrey?
Ed.
Note the punishments
That haunt the Miscreant for his black misdeeds;
That his base off-spring proves a natural Ideot;
Next that his wife, by whom he might had comfort
In progeny, though of some others getting,
Should with her light heels make him heavie-headed
By running of her Countrey! And lastly that
The blinded wretch should cast his servant off,
Who was the cover of his villany,
[Page 47] To shew us (that can have no mercy on him)
The way to plague him.
Ʋin.
Ha, ha, ha—
Ed.
What do'st laugh at?
Ʋin.
To think how nimble the poor uzzard is
To be reveng'd on's Master; How he has Shap'd himself;
Cut off his beard, and practis'd all the postures
To act the Changeling bastard.
Ed.
Could we light
Upon some quaint old fellow now, could match him
To play the clown that brings him up to town,
Our company were full, and we were ready
To put our project into present action.
Nat.
Gentlemen, we are fitted: take this man w'ye
He is the onely man I would have sought,
To give our project life. I'le trust thee Arnold,
And trust thou me, thou shalt get pieces by't;
Besides, Ile piece thee to thy Master again.
Ar.
That clinches Sir.
Nat.
Go follow your directions.
Ʋin.
Come away then.
Ex. Ʋin. Ed. Arn.
Nat.
Sweet mirth thou art my Mistress. I could serve thee.
And shake the thought off of all woman kind
But that old wonts are hardly lest. A man
That's enter'd in his youth, and throughly salted
In documents of women, hardly leaves
While reins or brains will last him: Tis my case.
Yet mirth, when women fail, brings sweet incounters
That tickle up a man above their sphear:
They dull, but mirth revives a man: who's here,
En. Art.
The solitary musing man, cal'd Arthur,
Posses'd with seriours vanity; Mirth to me!
The world is full: I cannot peep my head forth
But I meet mirth in every corner: Ha!
Sure some old runt with a splay-foot has crost him!
Hold up thy head man; what dost seek? thy grave?
I would scarse trust you with a piece of earth
[Page 48] You would chuse to lye in though; if some plump Mistriss
Or a deft Lass were set before your search.
Ar.
How vainly this man talks!
Nat.
Gid ye good den forsooth.
How vainly this man talks! speak but truth now,
Does not thy thought now run upon a Wench?
I never look'd so but mine stood that way.
Ar.
'Tis all your glory that; and to make boast
Of the variety that serves your lust:
Yet not to know what woman you love best.
Nat.
Not I cadzooks, but all alike to me,
Since I put off my Wench I kept at Livory:
But of their use I think I have had my share,
And have lov'd every one best of living women;
A dead one I nere coveted, that's my comfort:
But of all ages that are pressable;
From sixteen unto sixty; and of all complections
From the white flaxen to the tawney-Moor;
And of all statures between Dwarf and Giants;
Of all conditions, from the Doxie to the Dowsabel.
Of all opinions, I will not say Religious:
(For what make they with any?) and of all
Features and shapes, from the huckle-back'd Bum-creeper,
To the streight spiny Shop-maid in St. Martins.
Briefly, all sorts and sizes I have tasted.
Ar.
And thinkst thou hast done well in't!
Nat.
As well as I could with the worst of'em tho'l say't.
Few men come after me that mend my work.
Ar.
But thou nere thinkst of punishments to come;
Thou dream'st not of diseases, poverty,
The loss of sense or member, or the cross
(Common to such loose livers) an ill marriage;
A hell on earth to scourge thy conscience.
Nat.
Yes, when I marry, let me have a wife
To have no mercy on me; let the fate
Of a stale dovting Batchelor fall upon me;
[Page 49] Let me have Quicksands curse, to take a Wife
Will run away next day, and prostitute
Her self to all the world before her Husband.
Ar.
Nay, that will be too good: If I foresee
Any thing in thy marriage destiny,
'Twil be to take a thing that has been common
To th'world before, and live with thee perforce
To thy perpetual torment.
Nat.
Close that point.
I cannot marry. Will you be merry, Arthur?
I have such things to tell thee.
Ar.
No, I cannot.
Nat.
Pray thee come closer to me. What has crost thee?
Is thy suppos'd slain father come again,
To dispossess thee for another life time?
Or has thy valiant sister beaten thee? Tell me.
It shall go no further.
Ar.
Let your valiant wit
And jocound humor be suppos'd no warrant
For you t'abuse your friends by.
Nat.
Why didst tell me of marrying then? But I
Have done. And now pray speak what troubles you.
Ar.
I care not if I do: For 'twill be Town talk.
My Sister on a private discontent
Betwixt her self and me hath left my house.
Nat.
Gone quite away?
Ar.
Yes, And I know not whither.
Nat.
Beyond Sea sure to sight with th'Air, that took
Her fathers last breath into't. Went she alone?
Ar.
No, No; My man's gone with her.
Nat.
Who, the fellow
That brags on's back so; the stiff strong chin'd Rascal?
Ar.
Even he.
Nat.
The devil is in these young Tits,
And wildfire in their Cruppers.
Ar.
Let me charm you,
[Page 50] By all our friendship, you nor speak nor hear
An ill construction of her act in this,
I know her thoughts are noble; and my wo
Is swoln unto that fulness, that th' addition
But of word in scorn would blow me up
Into a cloud of wild distemper'd fury
Over the heads of all whose looser breath
Dare raise a wind to break me. Then I fall
A sodain storm of ruin on you all.
Exit.
Nat.
I know not how to laugh at this: It comes
So near my pitty. But ile to my Griggs
Again; And there will find new mirth to stretch
And laugh, like tickled wenches, hand ore head.
Exit.

ACT. 4. SCENE 1.

Dionysia in mans habit, Rafe.
Dio.
How does my habit and my arms become me?
Ra.
Too well to be a woman, manly Mistress.
Dio.
Wher's the pistol you provided for me.
Ra.
Here Mistress and a good one.
Dio.
Tis too long.
Ra.
No Lady would wish a shorter. If it were
'T would bear no charge, or carry nothing hotne.
Dio.
Ile try what I can do. Thou think'st me valiant.
I'm sure I have often felt it.
Ra.
All the virago's that are found in story,
Penthesilea and Symaramis
Were no such handy strikers as your self:
But they had another stroke, could you but find it,
Then you were excellent. I could teach it you.
Dio.
I dare not understand thee yet. Be sure
As you respect my honour, or your life
That you continue constant to my trust,
And so thou canst not know how much Ile love thee.
Ra.
[Page 51]
There is a hope as good, now, as a promise.
Dio.
Here at this Inne abide, and wait my coming
Be careful of my guildings: Be not seen
Abroad for fear my brother may surprise you.
Ther's money for you; and ere that be spent
Tis like I shall return.
Exit.
Ra.
Best stars attend you,
Mars arm thee all the day; and Venus light
Thee home into these amorous arms at night.
Exit.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 2.

Quicksands. Millicent, her face black.
Quic.
Be chear'd my love; help to bear up the joy,
That I conceive by thy concealed Beauty,
Thy rich imprison'd beauty, whose in [...]ranchisement
Is now at hand, and shall shine forth again
In its admired glory. I am rapt
Above the sphear of common joy and wonder
In the effects of this our quaint complot.
Mil.
In the mean time, though you take pleasure in't,
My name has dearly suffered.
Quic.
But thine honor
Shall, in the vindication of thy name,
When envy and detraction are struck dumb
Gain an eternal memory with vertue;
When the discountenanc'd wits of all my jierers
Shall hang their heads, and fall like leaves in Autumn.
O how I laugh to hear the cozen'd people
As I pass on the streets abuse themselves
By idle questions and false reports.
As thus: good morrow Master Quicksands; pray
How fares your beauteous bedfellow? says another
I hear she's not at home. A third sayes no:
He saw her yesterday at the still-yard
[Page 52] With such a Gallant, sowsing their dry'd tongues
In Rhemish, Deal, and Back-rag: Then a fourth
Sayes he knowes all her haunts and Meetings
At Bridgfoot, Bear, the Tunnes, the Cats, the Squirels;
Where, when, and in what company to find her,
But that he scornes to do poor me the favour:
Because a light piece is too good for me.
While a fifth youth with counterfeit shew of pity,
Meets, and bewails my case, and saies he knowes
A Lord that must be nameless keeps my wife
In an inchanted Castle two miles West
Upon the River side: but all conclude—
Mil.
That you are a monstrous cuckold, and deserve it.
Quic.
Knowing my safety, then, and their foul errors,
Have I not cause to laugh? Yes, in abundance.
Now note my plot, the height of my invention
I have already given out to some,
That I have certain knowledge you are dead,
And have had private burial in the countrey;
At which my shame, not grief, forbad my presence:
Yet some way to make known unto the world
A husbands duty, I resolve to make
A certain kind of feast, which shall advance
My joy above the reach of spight or chance.
Mil.
May I partake, Sir, of your rich conceit?
Quic.
To morrow night expires your limited moneth
Of vow'd virginity; It shall be such a night;
In which I mean thy beauty shall break forth
And dazle with amazement even to death
Those my malicious enemies, that rejoyc'd
In thy suppos'd escape, and my vexation.
I will envite 'hem all to such a feast
As shall fetch blushes from the boldest guest;
I have the first course ready—
Mil.
And if I
A side, one knocks.
Fail in the second, blame my houswifery.
Qui.
[Page 53]
Away, some body comes; I guess of them
That have jeer'd me, whom I must jeer again.
Ex. Mil.
Gallants y'are welcom. I was sending for ye.
En. Nat.
Nat.
To give us that we come for?
Vin. Ed.
Qui.
What may that be?
Vin.
Trifles you have o [...] ours.
Qui.
Of yours, my Masters?
Ed.
Yes, you have in mortgage
Three-score pound Land of mine inheritance.
Vin.
And my Annuity of a hundred Marks.
Nat.
And Jewels, Watches, Plate, and cloaths of mine,
Pawn'd for four hundred pound. Will you restore all?
Qui.
You know all these were forfeited long since,
Yet I'le come roundly to you, Gentlemen.
Ha'you brought my moneys, and my interest?
Nat.
No surely. But we'le come as roundly to you
As moneyless Gentlemen can. You know
Good Offices are ready money Sir.
Qui.
But have you Offices to sell, good Sirs.
Nat.
We mean to do you Offices worth your money.
Qui.
As how, I pray you.
Nat.
Marry, Sir, as thus;
We'le help you to a man that has a friend—
Vin.
That knows a party, that can go to the house—
Ed.
Where a Gentleman dwelt, that knew a Scholar
Nat.
That was exceeding wel acquainted with a Traveler
Vi.
That made report of a great Magician beyond the Seas.
Ed.
That might ha'been as likely as any man in all the world.
Nat.
To have helpt you to your wife again.
Qui.
You are the merriest mates that ere I cop'd withal.
But to be serious Gentlemen, I am satisfied
Concerning my lost Wife. She has made even
With me and all the World.
Nat.
What is she dead?
Qui.
Dead, Dead: And therefore as men use to mourn
[Page 54] For kind and loving wives, and call their friends
Their choicest friends unto a solemn banquet
Serv'd out with sighs and sadness, while the widowers
Blubber, and bath in tears (which they do seem
To wring out of their fingers ends and noses)
And after all the demure ceremony.
Are subject to be thought dissemblers, I
(To avoid the scandal of Hypocresie,
Because 'tis plain she lov'd me not) invite
You and your like that lov'd her and not me,
To see me in the pride of my rejoycings,
You shall find entertainment worth your company,
And that let me intreat to morrow night.
Nat.
You shall ha'mine.
Ʋin.
To morrow night say you.
Quic.
Yes gallants: fail not, as you wish to view
Your mortgages and pawns again. Adieu.
Exit.
Nat.
We came to jear the Jew, and he jears us.
Ʋin.
How glad the raschal is for his Wives death.
Nat.
An honest man could not have had such luck.
Ed.
He has some further end in't, could we guess it,
Then a meer merriment for his dead wives niddance.
Ʋin.
Perhaps he has got a new Wife, and intends
To make a funeral and a Marriage feast
In one to hedge in charges.
Ed.
He'il be hang'd rather then marry again.
Nat.
Zooks would he had some devilish jealous hilding,
'Twould be a rare addition to his mirth,
For us to bring our antick in betwixt'em
Of his changling Bastard.
Ʋin.
How ere we'll grace his feast with our presentment.
Nat.
When's the Buzzard?
Ʋin.
We left him with his foster father, Arnold,
B [...]sy at rehearsal practising their parts.
Ed.
They shall be perfect by to morrow night.
Nat.
If not unto our profit, our delight.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT 4. SCENE 3.

Theophilus. Lucy.
Lu.
Brother be comforted.
The.
Let not the name
Or empty sound of comfort mix with th'air
That must invade these ears: They are not capable,
Or, if they be, they dare not, for themselves,
Give the conveyance of a sillable
Into my heart, that speak not grief or sorrow.
Lu.
Be griev'd then, Ile grieve with you: For each sigh
You waste for Millicents untimely death
Ile spend a tear for your as fruitless sorrow.
The.
That's most unsutable; y'are no company
For me to grieve with if you grieve for me;
Take the same cause with me; you are no friend
Or sister else of mine. It is enough
To set the world a weeping!
Lu.
So it is;
All but the stony part of't.
The.
Now you are right. Her husband's of that part;
He cannot weep by nature: But Ile find
A way by art in Chymistry to melt him.
At least extract some drops. But do you weep
Indeed for Millicent? What, all these tears?
Lu.
All for your love.
The.
She is my love indeed; and was my wife.
But for the empty name of marriage onely,
But now she's yours for ever. You enjoy her.
In her fair blessed memory; in her goodness,
And all that has prepar'd her way for glory.
The.
Let me embrace thee sister. How I reverence
Any fair honour that is done to her,
[Page 56] Now thou shalt weep no more: Thou hast given me com­fort
In shewing me how she's mine. And tears indeed
Are all too weak a sacrifice for her
But such as the heart weeps.
Enter Page.
Lu.
Sit down brother.
Sing boy the mornful song I bad you practise.
Song.
The.
Call you this mournful. Tis a wanton air.
Go y'are a naughty child indeed, Ile whip you
If you give voice unto such notes,
Lu.
I know not brother how you like the air,
But in my mind the words are sad, Pray read'em.
The.
They are sad indeed▪ How now my boy, dost weep?
I am not angry now.
Pa.
I do not weep,
Sir, for my self. But ther's a youth without
(A handsome youth) whose sorrow works in me:
He sayes he wants a service, and seeks yours.
The.
Dost thou not know him▪
Pa.
No: but I pity him.
The.
O, good boy, that canst weep for a strangers misery!
The sweetness of thy dear compassion
Even melts me too. What does he say he is.
Pa.
Tis that Sir, that will grieve you when you hear it.
He is a poor kinsman to the gentlewoman
Lately deceas'd that you so lov'd and mourn for.
The.
And dost thou let him stay without so long?
Merciless Villain! run and fetch him quickly.
Lu.
O brother—
The.
Sister, can I be too zealous
In such a cause as this? For heark you, sister,
Enter Dionisia
Dio.
There was no way like this to get within'em,
Now courage keep true touch with me. Ile vex
Your cunning and unnatural purpose, brother,
[Page 57] If I do nothing else.
Pa.
Sir, here's the youth?
The.
A lovely one he is, and wondrous like her,
O let me run and clasp him; hang about him,
And yoak him to me with a thousand kisses!
I shall be troublesome and heavy to thee,
With the pleas'd waight of my incessant love.
Youth of a happy kindred, which foreruns
A happy fortune ever. Pray thee, sister,
Is he not very like her?
Lu.
If I durst
I would now say, this were the better beauty,
For it resembles Arthurs.
The,
I'st not her face? you do not mind me sister:
Lu.
Hers was a good one once, and this is now.
The.
Why sister, you were wont to take delight
In any comfort that belong'd to me;
And help to carry my joyes sweetly: now
You keep no constant course with me.
Dio.
This man
Melts me—alas, Sir, I am a poor boy.
The.
What, and allied to her? impossible!
Where ere thou liv'st her name's a fortune to thee.
Her memory amongst good men sets thee up;
It is a word that commands all in this house.
Dio.
This snare was not well laid. I fear my self.
The.
Live my companion; my especial sweet one,
My brother and my bedfellow thou shalt be.
Dio.
By lakin but I must not, though I find
But weak matter against it.—This my courage!
The.
She took from earth, how kind is heaven, how good
To send me yet, a joy so near in blood!
Good noble youth, if there be any more
Distres'd of you, that claims aliance with her
Though a far off; deal freely; let me know it,
Give me their sad names; Ile seek'em out,
[Page 58] And like a good great man, in memory humble
Nere cease until I plant'em all in fortunes,
And see'em grow about me.
Dio.
I hear of none, my self excepted, Sir.
The.
Thou shalt have all my care then, all my love.
Dio.
What make I here? I shall undo my self.
The.
Yet note him sister.
Dio.
I ther's the mark my malice chiefly aims at;
But then, he stands so near, I wound him too.
I feel that must not be. Art must be shewen here.
The.
Come, you shall kiss him for me, and bid him welcome.
Lu.
You are most welcome, Sir, and were her name
To which you are allied, a stranger here,
Yet, Sir, believe me, you in those fair eyes
Bring your own welcome with you.
Dio.
Never came Malice 'mong so sweet a people.
It knowes not how to look, nor I on them.
Lu.
Let not your gentle modesty make you seem
Ungentle to us, by turning so away.
The.
That's well said sister, but he will and shall
Be bolder with us, ere we part.
Dio.
I shall too much I fear.—
The.
Come gentle blessing,
Let not a misery be thought on here,
(If ever any were so rude to touch thee)
Between us we'll divide the comfort of thee.
Exeunt Omnes.

ACT. 4. SCENE. 4.

Millicent. Phillis.
Mil.
I have heard thy story often, and with pitty
As often thought upon't, and that the father,
[Page 59] Of my best lov'd Theophilus, together with
His, then, friend Master Meanwell (who have since
Become each others deathsman astis thought)
By suits in Law wrought the sad overthrow
Of thy poor Fathers fortune; by which means,
Poor Gentleman he was enforc'd to leave
His native Country to seek forrain meanes
To maintain life.
Phi.
Or rather to meet death.
For since his traval, which is now six years,
I never heard of him.
Mil.
Much pittiful!
Phi.
So is your story, Mistress unto me.
But let us dry our eyes; and know we must not
Stick in the mire of pitty; but with labour
Work our delivery: yours is now at hand
If you set will and brain to't. But my honor
(If a poor wench may speak so) is so crack'd
Within the ring, as 'twill be hardly solder'd
By any art. If on that wicked fellow,
That struck me into such a desperate hazard.
Mil.
He will be here to night, and all the crew
And this must be the night of my delivery,
I am prevented else for ever, wench.
Phi.
Be sure, among the guests, that you make choise
Of the most civil one to be your convoy,
And then let me alone to act your Mores part.
Mil.
Peace, he comes.
Enter Quic.
Phi.
Ile to my shift then.
Exit. Phi.
Quic.
Wher's my hidden beauty?
That shall this night be glorious.
Mil.
I but wait the good hour
For my deliverance out of this obscurity.
Quic.
Tis at hand.
So are my guests. See some of'em are enter'd.
Enter Nat.
O my blith friend, Master Nathaniel, welcome.
Arthur.
[Page 60] And Master Arthur Meanwell as I take it.
Nat.
Yes, Sir, a Gentleman late posses'd with sadnes,
Whom I had much a do to draw along
To be partaker more of your mirth then chear.
You say here shall be mirth. How now, what's that?
Ha'vou a black coney berry in your house?
Quic.
Stay Catelina. Nay, she may be seen.
For know, Sirs, I am mortified to beauty
Since my wives death. I will not keep a face
Better then this under my roof I ha'sworn.
Ar.
You were too rash, Sir, in that oath, if I
Mav be allowed to speak.
Quic.
Tis done and past, Sir.
Nat.
If I be not taken with yon'd funeral face,
And her two eyes the scutcheons, would I were whipt now.
Art.
Suppose your friends should wish you to a match
Prosperous in wealth and honour.
Quic.
Ile hear of none, nor you if you speak so.
Art.
Sir, I ha'done.
Nat.
It is the handsom'st Rogue
I have ere seen yet of a deed of darkness;
Tawney and russet faces I have dealt with,
But never came so deep in blackness yet.
Quic.
Come hither Catelyna. You shall see, Sir,
What a brave wench she shall be made anon
And when she dances how you shall admire her.
Art.
Will you have dancing here to night.
Quic.
Yes I have borrowed other Moors of Merchants
That trade in Barbary, whence I had mine own here,
And you shall see their way and skill in dancing.
Nat.
He keeps this Rie-loaf for his own white white tooth
With confidence none will cheat him of a bit;
Ile have a sliver though I loose my whittle.
Quic.
Here take this key, twill lead thee to those orna­ments
That deck'd thy mistress lately. Use her casket,
And with the sparklingst of her jewels shine;
Flame like a midnight beacon with that face,
[Page 61] Or a pitch'd ship a fire; the streamers glowing
And the keel mourning, (how I shall rejoyce
At these prepostrous splendours) get thee glorious;
Be like a running fire-work in my house.
Nat.
He sets me more a fire at her. Well old stick breech
If I do chance to clap your Barbary buttock
In all her bravery, and get a snatch
In an odd corner, or the dark to night
To mend your chear, and you hereafter hear on't,
Say there are as good stomacks as your own,
Hist, Negro, hist.
Mil.
No fee, O no, I darea notta.
Nat.
Why, why—pish—pox I love thee,
Mil.
O no de fine white Zentilmanna
Cannot a love a the black a thing a.
Nat.
Cadzooks the best of all wench.
Mill.
O take—a heed—a my mastra see—a.
Nat.
When we are alone, then wilt thou.
Mil.
Then I shall speak a more a.
Nat.
And Ile not lose the Moor-a for more then I
Will speak-a.
Quic.
I muse the rest of my invited Gallants
Come not away.
Nat.
Zooks the old angry justice.
Enter Testy.
Tes.
How comes it Sir, to pass, that such a newes
Is spread about the town? is my Neece dead,
And you prepar'd to mirth Sir, hah?
Is this the entertainment I must find
To welcome me to town?
Quic.
She is not dead, Sir. But take you no notice
You shall have instantly an entertainment, that
Shall fill you all with wonder.
Tes.
Sure he is mad;
Or do you understand his meaning sirs?
Or how or where his wife died?
Nat.
I know nothing;
[Page 62] But give me leave to fear, by his wild humor,
He's guilty of her death; therefore I hope
Hee'l hang himself anon before us all
To raise the mirth he speaks of.
Art.
Fie upon you.
Yet trust me, sir, there have been large constructions,
And strong presumptions, that the ill made match
Betwixt her youthful beauty and his covetous age;
Between her sweetness and his frowardness
Was the unhappy means of her destruction;
And you that gave strength to that ill tied knot
Do suffer sharply in the worlds opinion,
While she, sweet virgin, has its general pity.
Tes.
Pray what have you been to her? I nere found you
Appear a suiter to her.
Art.
I nere saw her,
Nor ever should have sought her, Sir; For she
Was onely love to my sworne enemy,
On whom yet (were she living and in my gift
Rather a thousand times I would bestow her
Then on that man that had, and could not know her.
Tes.
I have done ill; and wish I could redeem
This act with half my estate.
Nat.
This Devels bird,
This Moor runs more and more still in my mind.
Enter Ʋin. & Edm.
O are you come? And ha'you brought your scene
Of Mirth along with you?
Ʋin.
Yes, and our actors
Are here at hand: But we perceive much business
First to be set a foot. Here's Revels towards.
Ed.
A daunce of furies or of Blackamores
Is practising within;
Ʋin.
But first there is to be some odd collation
In stead of supper.
Nat.
Cheap enough I warrant,
But saw you not a Moor-hen there amongst'em.
Ed.
A pretty little Rogue, most richly deck'd
[Page 63] With pearls, chains and jewels. She is queen
Of the Nights triumph.
Nat.
If you [...]h [...]nce to spy me
Take her aside, say nothing.
Ed.
Thou wilt filch
Some of her jewels perhaps.
Nat.
Ile draw a lot
Enter Quicksands.
For the best jewel she wears. But mum my Masters.
Quic.
Enter the house pray Gentlemen: I am ready
Now with your entertainment.
Exit.
Tes.
Wee'l follow you.
Nat.
N [...]w for six penny custards, a pipkin of bak'd
Pears, three sawcers of stew'd prunes, a groats worth
Of strong ale, and two peniworth of Gingerbread.
Ext. 3.
Tes.
If she does live (as he bears me in hand
She is not dead) Ile tell you briefly, Sir,
If all the law bodily and ghostly,
And all the conscience too, that I can purchase
With all the wealth I have can take her from him,
I will recover her, and then bestow her
(If you refuse her) on your so you speak of,
(whose right she is indeed) rather then he
Shall hold her longer. Now mine eyes are open'd.
Will you walk in.
Ar.
I pray excuse me, Sir,
Exi [...], Enter Mili. white. fac'd & in her ovvn habit.
I cannot fit my self to mirth.
Tes.
Your pleasure.
Mil. Have I with patience waited for this [...]ou [...],
And does fear check me now? I'le break through all,
And trust my self with yon'd mildeGentleman.
He cannot but be noble.
Art.
A goodly creature!
The Rooms illumin'd with her; yet her look
Sad, and cheek pale, as if a sorrow suck'd it.
Hovv came she in? What is she? I am fear▪struck.
Tis some unresting shaddow. Or, if not,
[Page 64] What makes a thing so glorious in this house,
The master being an enemy to beauty?
She modestly makes to me.
Mil.
Noble Sir,—
Art.
Speaks too.
Mil.
If ever you durst own a goodness,
Now crown it by an act of honour and mercy.
Art.
Speak quickly; lose no time then: say, what are you?
You look like one that should not be delai'd.
Mil.
I am th'unfortunate woman of this house,
To all mens thoughts at rest. This is the face
On which the Hell of jealousie abus'd
The hand of Heaven, to fright the world withall.
Ar.
Were you the seeming Moor was here?
Mil.
The same;
And onely to your secresie and pitty
I have ventur'd to appear my self again.
Ar.
What's to be done? Pray speak, and tis perform'd.
Mil.
In trust and Manhood Sir, I would commit
A great charge to you, even my life and honor
To free me from this den of misery.
Art.
A blessed tasque! But when you are freed Lady—
Mil.
I would desire Sir, then to be convei'd.—
Ar.
Whither? to whom? speak quickly: why do you stoop?
Mil.
Pray let that rest. I will relieve your trouble
When I am freed from hence, and use some others.
Art.
Nay, that were cruelty. As you love goodness tell me.
Mil.
Why dare you bear me Sir, to one you hate.
Art.
What's that, if you love? Tis your peace I wait on.
I look upon your service, not mine own.
Were he the mortall'st enemy flesh bred up
To you I must be noble.
Mil.
You profess—
Ar.
By all that's good and gracious, I will die
Ere I forsake you, and not set you safe
Within those walls you seek.
Mil.
[Page 65]
Then, as we pass
Ile tell you where they stand, Sir.
Ar.
You shall grace me.
Exit.

ACT 4. SCENE 5.

Quick sands. Testy. Nath. Vincent. Edmond.
Qui.
Now to our Revels. Sit ye, sit ye gallants
Whilst, Uncle, you shall see how I'le requite
The masque they lent me on my wedding night.
Twas but lent Gentlemen, your masque of horns,
And all the private jears and publick scorns
Y'have cast upon me since. Now you shall see
How Ile return them; and remarried be.
Vin.
I hope he'l marry his Moor to anger us.
Nat.
Ile give her something with her, if I catch her,
And't be but in the cole-house.
Florish enter Inductor like a Moor leading Phil­lis (black and) gorge­ously deck't with jewels.
Tes.
Attend Gentleman.
Ind.
The Queen of Ethiop dreampt upon a night
Her black womb should bring forth a virgin white.
Ind.
She told her king; he told thereof his Peeres.
Till this white dream fil'd their black heads with fears:
Nat.
A whorson blockheads.
Ind.
Blackheads I sai'd. Ile come to you anon
Tes.
He puts the blockheads on'hem grosly.
Quic.
Brave impudent rogue. He made the speeches last year
Before my Lord Marquess of Fleet Conduit.
Ind.
Till this white dream fil'd their blackheads with fear,
For tis no better then a Prodegy
To have white children in a black countrey.
So 'twas decreed that if the child prov'd white,
It should be made away. O cruel spight!
The Queen cry'd out, and was delivered
[Page 66] Of child black as you see: Yet Wizards sed
That if this damsel liv'd married to be
To a white man, she should be white as he.
Vin.
The moral is, If Quicksands marry her,
Her face shall be white as his conscience.
Ind.
The careful Queen, conclusion for to try,
Sent her to merry England charily
(The fairest Nation man yet ever saw)
To take a husband; such as I shall draw,
Being an Aegyptian Prophet.
Ed.
Draw me, and ile hang thee.
Ind.
Now I come to you, Gentlemen.
He looks in Ed­monds hand.
Qui.
Now mark my Jeeres.
Ind.
You must not have her: For I find by your hand
You have forfeited the mortgage of your land.
Ed.
Pox o'your Palmistrie.
Ven.
Now me.
Ind.
Nor you: For here I plainly see
In Vin his hand.
You have sold and spent your lifes Annuity.
Vin.
The devil take him, made thee a soothsayer.
Nat.
I find from whence your skill comes. Yet take me
For thy little Princess of darknesse, and if
I rub her not as white as another can
Let me be hung up with her for a new
Sign of the labour in vain.
Ind.
Nor you, sir: For
In Nats hand.
T [...]e onely sute you wear smels of the chest
That holds in Limbo Lavender all your rest.
Nat.
Would his brains were in thy belly that keeps the key on't.
Ind.
This is the worthy man, whose wealth and wit,
To make a white one, must the black mark hit.
In Quic. hand
Qui.
Your jeers are answer'd, gallants. Now your dance.
[Page 67] Enter the rest of the Moors. They Dance an Antique in which they use action of Mockery and derision to the three Gentlemen.
Nat.
We applaud your devise, and you'l give me leave
To take your black bride here, forth in a daunce.
Quic.
With all my heart, sir.
Nat.
Musick, play a Galliard,
You know what you promised me, Bullis.
Phi.
But howa can ita be donea.
Nat.
How I am taken with the elevation of her nostrils.
Nat.
Play a little quicker—Heark you—if I lead you
A dance to a couch or a bed side, will you follow me?
Phi.
I will doa my besta.
Nat. daunces vily. Quicks. & Tes. laughs & looks off.
Nat.
So, so; quick Musick, quick.
Qui.
O ougly! call you this dauncing; ha, ha, ha.
Nat.
Do you laugh at me.
Enter Arnold like a Countrey man, and Buz. like a changling, and as they enter, exit Nat. with Phil. the Musick still playing.
Arn.
By your leave Gentlefolks.
Buz.
O brave, o brave.
Quic.
How now.
Tes.
What are these?
Buz.
Hack ye there, hack ye there,
O brave pipes. Hack ye there.
He sings and dan­ces and spins with a Rock & spindle.
Hay toodle loodle loodle loo.
Qui.
What are you men or devils?
Arn.
You are advis'd enough: Sir, if you please
But to be short, I'le shew you I am a Norfolk man,
And my name is John Hulverhead.
Quic.
Hold thy peace.
Softly.
Arn.
You cannot hear o'chat side it seems.
Qui.
I know thee not, not I.
Arn.
But you know my brother Matthew Hulverhead
[Page 68] Deceas'd, with whom you plac'd this simple child of yours.
Qui.
I plac't no childe in Norfolk nor Suffolk nor any
Folk I—say thou mistookst me: Ile reward thee. Go.
Arn.
I cannot hear o'that ear neither, sir.
Vin.
What's the matter, Mr. Quicksands?
Ed.
Ha'you any more jeeres to put upon us? what are these?
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle loodle loo.
Qui.
Get you out of my house.
Arn.
I may not till I be righted. I come for right, and
I will have right, or the best of the Citie shall
Hear on't.
Vin.
I swear the Rascals act it handsomly.
Tes.
What art thou fellow? What dost thou seek?
Vin.
Tell that Gentleman: He is an upright Majestrate
And will see thee righted.
Arn.

I am a poor Norfolk man, sir. And I come to ease myself of a charge, by putting off a childe nat'ral to the natu [...]al father here.

Quic.
My child! Am I his father? Darst thou speak it.
Arn.
Be not asham'd on't, sir: You are not the first grave and wise Citizen that has got an ideot.
Tes.
Here's good stuff towards.
Buz.
Ha, ha, ha—with a Hay toodle loodle loodle loo.
Qui.
How should I get him. I was never married till this moneth.
Arn.
How does other bawdy Batchelors get children?
Buz
With a hay toodle loodle loodle loo, &c.
Tes.
Have you been a bastard-getter and marry my Neece.
Vin.
Now it works.
Tes.
I [...]e teach you to get a bastard, sirrah.
Arn.
He needs none o'your skill it seems.
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Qui.
Well, Gentlemen, to take your wonder off,
I will lay truth before you.
For a poor servant that I had, I undertook and paid
For keeping of an ideot.
Ed.
[Page 69]
Who, your man Buzzard?
Qui.
Even he.
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Qui.
'Tis like this is the child. But for a certain sum
Which I did pay, 'twas articled, that I should nere be
Troubled with it more.
Tes.
Now what say you to that Sir?
Arn.
'Tis not denyed Sir, There was such agreement,
But now he is another kind of charge.
Vin.
Why, he gets something towards his living me thinks.
Buzzard spinns.
Ar.
Yes, he has learn'd to thrip among the Mothers;
But Sir, withal, to do more harm then good by't,
And that's the charge I speak of: we are not bound
To keep your child, and your childes children too.
Tes.
How's that?
Arn.
Sir, by his cunning at the Rock,
And twirling of his spindle on the Thrip-skins,
He has fetch'd up the bellies of sixteen
Of his Thrip-sisters.
Buz.
Hay toodle, loodle, loodle, &c.
Tes.
Is't possible.
Arn.
So well he takes after his father here it seems.
Ed.
Take heed o'that friend: you heard him say it was his mans child.
Arn.
He sha'not fright me with that, though it be
A great mans part to turn over his bastards
To his servants. I am none of his hirelings, nor
His Tenants I. But I know what I say; and I know
What I come about; and not without advise; And you
May know, that Norfolk is not without as knavish
Councel, as another County may be. Let his man Buz.
Be brought forth, and see what he will say to't.
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Qui.
Wretch that I was to put away that fellow!
[Page 70] But stay! where is my wife? my wife, my wife—
Vin.
What say you, Sir?
Qui.
My Moor I would say. Which way went my Moor?
Vin.

Your Ethiopian Princess.

Nat.
is gone to dance with her in private, because you laught him out of countenance here.
Qui.
Mischief on mischief! worse and worse I fear.
Tes.
What do you fear, why stare you? Are you frantick?
Qui.
I must have wits and fits, my fancies and fegaries.
Ed.
Your jeers upon poor Gallants.
Vin.
How do you feel your self.
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Arn.
Ask your father blessing Timsy.
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Arn.
Upon your knees man.
Buz.
Upon all my knees. A—ah. Hay toodle loodle.
Nat.
What was't to you, you slaves?
Enter Nat. & Phillis pul'd in by the Moors.
Must you be peeping.
Tes.
What's the matter now?
Nat.
What was't to you, ye Rascals?
Moor.

It is to us Sir, We were hir'd to dance and to speak speeches; and to do the Gentleman true service in his house: And we will not see his house made a baudy house, and make no speech o'that.

Tes.
What is the business?
Moor.

Marry Sir a naughty business. This Gentleman has committed a deed of darkness with your Moor, Sir; We all saw it.

Tes.
What deed of darkness? speak it plainly.
Moor.
Darkness or lightness; call it which you will.
They have lyen together; made this same a baudy house;
How will you have it?
Qui.
Undone, most wretched. O, I am confounded.
I see no art can keep a woman honest.
Nat.
I love her, and will justifie my Act.
Phi.
[Page 71]
And I the best of any man on earth.
Nat.
Thou speakest good English now.
Qui.
O Ruine, ruine, ruine—
Buz.
Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Vin.
Why take you on so, for an ougly feind?
Qui.
She is my wife, Gentlemen.
All.
How Sir, your wife.
Ed.
In conceit you mean.
Qui.
I say my lawful wife; your Neece; and so dis­guis'd
By me on purpose.
Tes.
I said he was mad before, ha, ha, ha.
Nat.
Now I applaud my act, 'twas sweet and brave.
Qui.
I'le be divorc'd before a Court in publique.
Tes.
Now will I use Authority and skill.
Friends, guard the doors. None shall depart the house.
Nat.
Mun. Vin. Content, content.
Arn.
Shall I, Sir, and my charge stay too?
Qui.
Oh—
Tes.
Marry Sir, shall you.
Buz.
I fear we shall be smoak'd then.
Arn.
No, no, fear nothing.
Tes.
You know your Chamber huswife. I'le wait o'your Master
To night. We will not part until to morrow day,
Justice and Law lights every one his way.
Vin.
Is this your merry night, Sir?
Qui.
Oh—oh—oh—o—
Ed.
Why roar you so?
Nat.
It is the Cuckolds howle. A common cry about the City.
Qui.
Oh o —Buz. Hay toodle loodle, &c.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT. 5. SCENE. 1.

Meanwell. Rashly. Winlosse. Host.
Mea.
Now my good Host, since you have been our friend
[Page 72] And onely councel keeper in our absence,
To you, before we visit our own houses
We'le render a relation of our journey,
And what the motive was that drew us forth.
'Tis true, we did pretend a deadly quarrel
At a great bowling match upon Black-heath;
Went off; took horse; and several wayes, forecast
To meet at Dover, where we met good friends,
And in one Barque past over into France:
Here 'twas suppos'd to fight, like fashion followers
That thither flie, as if no sand but theirs
Could dry up English blood.
Host.
Now, by the way,
Suppose that supposition had been true,
And the supposed deaths of you, and you
Had mov'd your sons to combate in earnest,
And both been kil'd indeed, as you in jest,
Where had been then your witty subtilty,
My noble Meanwell, and my brave Rashly?
Ha! have I twight ye there?
Rash.
Thou keepst thy humor still my running Host.
Host.
My humor was, nor is, nor must be lost:
But, to the question, was it wisely done,
When each of you might so have lost a son?
Rash.
We had no fear of that Sir, by the Rule,
The common Rule o'th'world. Where do you find
Sons that have lives and Lands, will venture both
For their dead Fathers that are gone and car'd for?
Nor was it onely to make tryal of
What husbands they would be; how spend, or save;
How mannage, or destroy; how one or both
Might play the Tyrants over their poor Tenants,
Yet fall by Prodigality into th'Compters:
And then the dead by pulling off a Beard,
After a little chiding and some whyning,
[Page 73] To set the living on their legs again,
And take 'em into favour; pish, old play-plots.
No Sir, our business runs another course;
Know you this Gentleman yet?
Host.
Nor yet, nor yet;
Best wits may have bad memories; I forget.
Win.
It is my part to speak. Mine Host, y'have known me,
My name is Winloss; a poor Gentleman,
Yet richer, by my liberty, then I was
For six years space, till these good Gentlemen
In charity redeem'd me.
Host.
Master Winloss!
I thought I could as soon forgot my Chriss-Cross,
Yet (pardon me) you have been six years gone,
And all of them in prison saving one,
In Dunkerk as I weene.
Win.
It is most true;
And that from thence these Gentlemen redeem'd me
At their own charge, by paying five hundred pound,
Which was my Ransom.
Host.
'Tis a rare example.
Win.
Worthy brass tables, and a pen of steel.
Mea.
No more good neighbour Winloss. What we did
Was to discharge our conscience of a burden
Got (and 'twas all we got) by your undoing,
In a sad suit at Law.
Host.
I do remember;
And, without ruine I'le tell you, That sad cause,
In which you join'd against him, overthrew him
And all his Family: But this worthy act
Of yours in his enlargement, crowns your piety,
And puts him in a way of better Fortune,
Then his first tottering estate could promise.
Rash.
Shut up that point. You have heard no ill, you say,
Among our sons and daughters in our absence.
Host.
Not any Sir at all. But, Mr. Winloss,
[Page 74] You that have past so many sorrows, can
(I make no doubt) here one with manly patience.
Win.
Tis of my daughter Phillis! Is she dead?
Host.
Tis well and't be no worse with her: I fear
She's gone the tother way of all flesh, do you hear?
Rash.
Why dost thou tell him this?
Host.
To have him right
His daughters wrong upon that wicked beast
That has seduc'd her.
Rash.
Who is't? canst thou tell?
Host.
Even the Ran [...]k-rider of the town, Sir, one
Master Nathaniel Banelasse, if you know him.
Mea.
He has my sons acquaintance.
Rash.
And mine's too.
Host.
You may be proud on' [...], if they scape his doctrine.
Win.
But does he keep my daughter to his lust?
Host.
No, Sir, tis worse then so. He has cast her off
To the common, as tis fear'd.
Win.
Owretchedness!
Rash.
How cam'st thou by this knowledge.
Host.
Sir, Ile tell you.
I have, i'th'house, a guest, was once your man,
And serv'd your son, since you went ore I'm sure on'c,
Though now he has got a young spark to his Master,
That has a brace of gueldings in my stable;
And lusty ones they are. That's by the way.
Rash.
But to the point, I pray thee.
Host.
Sir, the young gallant is abroad, the man
Scults closs i'th' [...]ouse here, and has done these two dayes
Spending his time with me in drink and talk.
Most of his talk runs upon wenches mainly;
And who loves who, and who keeps home, and so forth;
And he told me the tale that I tell you
Twixt Banelasse and your done and undone daughter.
Ra.
Mine host—cry mercy Gentlemen—
Enter Rafe.
Mea.
Nay, nay, come on.
Host.
[Page 75]
I told you he was very shy to be seen.
Ra.
My old master alive again? and he that he kil'd too?
Mea.
Whom do you serve? was I so ill a master,
That, in my absence, you forsook my children?
Or how have they misus'd you? Why dost look
So like an apprehended thief? I fear
Thou serv'st some robber, or some murderer,
Or art become thy self one. If the Devil
Have so possess'd thee, strive to turn him out:
He add my prayers to help thee. Whats the matter?
Ra.
O honor'd master! Ile keep nothing from you.
There is an act of horror now on foot,
Upon revenge of your supposed murder,
Of which to stand and tell the circumstance,
Would wast the time and hinder the prevention
Of your sons murder, and your daughters ruin.
All.
O fearful!
Ra.
Let not your amazement drown
Your reason in delay; your sudden hast
Was never so requir'd as now. Stay not
To ask my why, or whither. As ye go
I shall inform ye.
Rash.
Go, we follow thee.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT. 5. SCENE 2.

Dionysia as before in mans habit, sword and pistol.
What a fierce conflict twixt revenge and love,
Like an unnatural civil war, now rages
In my perplexed breast. There, fight it out;
To it Pel-mel my thoughts. The battel's hot.
Now for the day! revenge begins to stagger,
And her destracted Army at an instant
R [...]uted and put to flight. All conquering love,
Thou hast got the victory; and now I sue
[Page 76] (Like a rent kingdom by self-opposite thoughts)
Unto thy soveraignty, to be the liege-right.
Take me to thy protection, kingly love,
And having captivated my revenge,
O, play not now the Tyrant. A firm hope
Perswades me no: But when I shall
Reveal my self I shall obtain Theophilus love.
Which now is ten times sweeter in my thought
Then my revenge was, when 'twas first begot.
Ent. The. & Lucy.
The.
What, still alone? we have been seeking thee.
Dio.
O 'tis the service that I ow you Sir.
Lu.
Indeed you are too pensive: two whole dayes
And nights among us, and no more familiar?
Ent. Ar. in his false beard, [...]eading in Mil. veil'd. Pages they stand a­loofe.
Pa.
May I crave your name, Sir?
Ar.
That's to little purpose,
My business is the thing—yonder's the star!
What young Gentleman is that your Mistris arm
Appears so courteous too?
Pa.
One she thinks well on Sir,
No matter for his name, as you said, neither.
Ar.
He seems some well grac'd suitor. 'Tis my fear,
If he should now—I must be just however.
Pa.
Sir, a Gentleman desires to speak with you.
The.
Dost thou not know his name?
Pa.
He will not tell it Sir.
The.
You treacherous boy, do you bring you know not whom?
O 'tis the Gentleman I was so bound to, Sister:
The welcom'st man alive; Thanks my good boy.
What's she he brings in veil'd, and this way leads?
Ar.
Sir, though I am still a stranger in my visit,
To works of gentleness, I am partly known.
There (if you chance t'enquire of me hereafter
(When I shall more deserve your inquisition)
I may be found, if not exact in service,
A least a poor pretender in my wishes:
And so presenting this white gift, (more modest
[Page 77] Then the most secret duty of mans friendship
Can ever be) I take my leave—
The.
This man
Would breed, at every time ht's seen, a wonder!
Sir, leave me not thus lost: let me once know you,
And what this mystery means? This bears a shape
I may not entertain: I have set my vow
Against all woman kinde, since Heaven was married
To my first love; and must not willingly
Discover a temptation with mine own hand.
Ar.
How shie and nice we are to meet our happinesse!
Like dying wretches, ' [...]raid to go to rest.
Because you shall be guilty of no breach
I'le ope the Casket for you.
He unveils her, & slips away.
The.
Blesse me, it is—
Warm, so Love cherish me and comfortable.
Dio.
O death, my hopes are blasted.
Lu.
How is it with you, sir.
The.
Might a man credit his own sences now
This were my Millicent. How think you, sister?
Mil.
Indeed I am so, my Theophilus.
Dio.
She lives, and he is lost to me for ever,
I shall be straight discover'd too. False Love
Thou hast dealt loosely with me; And Revenge
I re-invoke thy nobler spirit: Now
Possesse me wholly; let it not be thought
I came and went off idly.
Lu.
Sir, something troubles you. See your kinswoman
My brother stands intranc'd too; Brother, brother▪
Noble Lady, speak to him.
Mil.
I was in my discovery too sudden.
Strong rapture of his joy transmutes him—Sir,
Be not so wonder-struck; or, if you be,
Let me conjure you by the love you bore me,
R [...]turn unto your self again. Let not
A wandring thought fly from you, to examine
[Page 78] From whence, or how I came: If I be welcome
I am your own and Millicent.
The.
And in that
So blest a treasure, that the wealth and strength
Of all the world shall never purchace from me.
Heaven may be pleas'd again to take thee, but
Ile hold so fast, that wee'll go hand in hand;
Besides, I hope his mercy will not part us.
But where's the man now more desir'd then ever
That brought you hither?
Mil.
You ask in vain for him.
I can resolve you all; but for the present
He will be known to none.
The.
This is a cruel goodness: To put thankfulness
Out of all action. Sirah, how went he?
Pa.
I know not, Sir, he vanish'd sodainly.
The.
Vanish'd! good Lucy help to hold her fast
She may not vanish too. Spirits are subtle.
Mil.
This was my fear. Will you have patience,
And fit but in this chair while I relate my story.
The.
Ile be as calm in my extreamest deeps
As is the couch where a sweet conscience sleeps.
Dio.
Tis now determinate as fate; and so
At the whole cluster of'em. Bless me ha!
As Dionisia presents her pistol. Enter. Rash. Mean. Win. Rafe. Arthur.
My father living! Then the cause is dead
Of my revenge.
Rash.
What is he kill'd out right.
Or els but hurt? Theophilus! my boy!
Dead, past recovery. Stay the murdress there.
Look you, Sir, to her. I suspect your son too
Is not without a hand in't by the hast
We met him in.
Lu.
He is not hurt at all
My honour'd father, as I desire your blessing,
But stricken with an extasie of joy.
Rash.
[Page 79]
Look up my boy. How dost?here's none but friends.
The.
Sure, sure w'are all then in Elisium
Where all are friends and fill'd with equal joy.
Earth can have no felicity like this.
If thisbe any thing.
Rash.
Thou canst not see nothing,
Look well about thee man.
The.
I see, I feel, I hear and know ye all:
But who knowes what he knowes, sees, feels, or hears?
Tis not an age for man to know himself in.
Rash.
He is not mad I know by that.
The.
If I know any thing, you are my father—
Rash.
Thou art a wise child.
The.
And I beseech your blessing.
Rash.
Thou hast it. Millicont, I have heard your story,
And Lucy, you betwixt you sooth his fancy,
He will be well anon. Keep'em company Arthur,
And Lucy, bid him welcome.
Lu.
More then life, Sir.
Rash.
You Dionysia would be chid a little;
But, Sir, let me intreat her parden [...]
Mea.
Dry your eyes: you have it.
Go instantly resume your sexes habit,
And with the rest be ready, if we call ye
To Quicsands house. The rumour of our coming
Already calls us thither to be assistant
To justice Testy in a pondrous difference.
Kash.
How does he now?
Ar.
He's fallen into a slumber.
Rash.
In with him all I pray.
Ar. &c.
He shall have all our cares.
Exit with The. in the chair.
Rash.
Come my friend Meanwell. Now to Quick-sands cause,
To keep it out of wrangling lawyers jawes.
The face of danger is almost made clean
And may conclude all in a comick scene.
Exit.

ACT. 5. SCENE 3.

Vincent. Edmond. Testy. Rashly. Meanwel.
Vin.
Come, we will hear this cause try'd.
Ed.
See the Judges
Have tane their seats, while we stand here for evidence.
Tes.
My worthy friends, y'are come unto a cause
As rare, as was your unexpected coming
From the supposed grave—
Rash.
To th' point I pray.
Tes.
How quick you are! Good Mr. Rashly, know
(Though I crav'd your assistance) onely I
Supply the chief place in Authority.
Rash.
And much good do'c you. I have other business—
Your Neece Sir was too good for my poor son.
Tes.
How's that?
Mea.
Nay Gentlemen, we came to end
A business: Pray begin no new one first.
Rash.
Well Sir, I ha'done.
Mea.
Pray Sir fall to the question.
Test.
Bring in the parties.
Ent. Quic. Nat. Phil.
The first branch of the question rises here
If Quicksands wife, my Neece, be dead or living
Speak Gentlemen. What can you say to this?
Vin.
Quicksands affirm'd to us, that she was dead.
Edm.
Though, since in a destracted passion
He sayes she lives.
Qui.
She lives, and is that strumpet,
From whom I sue to be divorc'd.
Mea.
That Moor, there?
Did you wed her since your fair wives decease?
Qui.
Tha [...] same is she, and all the wives I had
[Page 81] That black is but an artificial tincture
Laid by my jealousie upon her face.
Rash.
This is most strange.
Nat.
Braver and braver still,
I aim'd but at a cloud and clasp'd a June,
Will you be onely mine?
Phi.
I have sworn it ever.
Nat.
Then I am made for ever.
Test.
Remove her, and let instant tryal be made
To take the blackness off.
Qui.
Then if her shame,
And my firm truth appear not, punish me.
Tes.
However, your consent to be divorc'd
From Millicent is irrecoverable.
Qui.
Before you all, Ile forfeit my estate
If ere I re-accept her.
Rash.
Then she's free.
Tes.
Now Mr. Banelass—
Nat.
Now for the honour of Wenchers.
Tes.
Your fact is manifested and confest.
Nat.
In fewest words it is.
Tes.
Are you content
To take this woman now in question,
If she be found no Moor to be your Wife,
In holy marriage to restore her honour?
Nat.
Or else, before you all, let me be torn
To pieces; having first those dearest members,
In which I have most delighted, daub'd with honey▪
Tes.
This protestation
Is clear, without respect of portion, now,
Or that she is my Neece: For you must know
She is no Neece of mine that could transgress
In that leane kind: Nor must she ever look
For favour at my hands.
Nat.
I am content, to take her as she is,
Not as your Neece, but as his counterfeit servant,
[Page 82] Hoping he'le give me with her all about her.
Qui.
My chains, and Jewels, worth a thousand pounds,
I'le pay it for my folly.
Nat.
'Twil be twice
The price of my pawn'd goods. I'le put the rest
Up for your jeers past on my friends and me.
Mea.
You are agreed.
Nat.
To take her with all faults.
Enter Phi­lis white.
Phi.
I take you at your word.
Qui.
Hah—
Nat.
Hell and her changes.
Phi.
Lead by the hope of justice, I am bold
To fix here fast, here to repair my ruins.
Nat.
The devil looks ten times worse with a white face,
Give me it black again.
Phi.
Are we not one, you know from the beginning?
Nat.
Get thee from me.
Tes.
Sirrah you have your suit and your desert,
'Tis your best part to pass it patiently.
Rash.
'Tis Winloss daughter; we have found the error.
Qui.
I am confounded here. Where is my Wife?
Tes.
I, that's the point must now be urg'd. The Law
Asks her at your hands. Answer me, where is she?
Qui.
I am at my joys end, and my wits together.
Mea.
You have brought her fame in question: Tis re­veng'd
Now you are in both for her life and honour.
Tes.
S [...]eak villain, Murderer, where is my Neece?
Qui.
I have snar'd my self exceeding cunningly;
That quean there knows.
Nat.
Take heed, Sir, what you say,
If she must be my wife. Hands off I pray,
These are my goods she wears. Give me'em, Phil.
For fear he snatch, Ile put'em in my pockets.
Phi.
Sweet heart, my own will hold'em.
Nat.
Sweet heart already! we are soon familiar.
Phi.
You know we are no strangers.
Rash.
[Page 83]
Well Mr. Quicksands: because you cannot answer
(To put you by the fear of halter-stretching)
Since y'have ingag'd your word and whole estate
To be divorc'd: And you good Mr. Testy,
I [...] you'l be willing yet that my poor son
To wed your Neece, as I shall find it lawful,
Ile undertake her safe recovery.
Tes.
I have in heart given her your son already.
Rash.
And he has her already.
Ent. The. Mil. Ar. Lu. Dio. Winloss.
As for example, see Sir.
Qui.
See, see, the heaven that I am justly fallen from,
O may I yet find favour.
Mil.
Never here.
Hadst thou not given thy faith to a divorce,
On forfeiture of thine estate, which thou
Dost hold more precious; or couldst now redeem
That great ingagement; and then multiply
Thy past estate into a tenfold sum.
Make me inheritrix of all; and last assure me
To die within a week, Ile not re-marry thee:
Adulterate beast, that brok'st thy former wedlock
In thy base lust with that thy servant there.
Nat.
What a pox no, I tro—My wife that must be?
Phi.
'Twas your own doing, to put me to my shifts.
Nat.
The devil shift you, then you will be sure
Of change enough.
Win.
O shame unto my blood.
Nat.
I will henceforward councel all my friends
To wed their whores at first, before they go
Out o'their hands.
Tes.
How can you answer this?
Qui.
I utterly deny't upon my oath.
Phi.
So do I, and safely for any act.
Nat.
That's well agen.
Phi.
It was but in attempt, I told my Mistriss,
Had it been done, sure I should nere have spoke on't.
Nat.
[Page 84]
Those are the councels women can onely keep.
Phi.
Nothing in act I assure you.
Mil.
In him 'twas foul enough though.
Mea.
O hateful vice in age.
Tes.
'Tis an old vice grown in him from his youth,
Of which bring forth for proof his bastard there.
Buz.
I fear we shall be whipt for counterfeits;
Ent. Buz. Arn.
My long coats have a grudging of the lash.
Arn.
I see my old Masters face again, and I will
Fear nothing.
Buz.
Then Ile bear up again—
Hay diddy daddy, come play with the Baby
Dindle dandle on thy knee, and give him a penny,
And a new coat, o ho—
Qui.
My grief and shame is endless.
Vin.
Let not grief master you, Mr. Quicksands.
Ed.
We are your friends, and pitty your afflictions.
What will you give us now and we'le release you
For ever of this changling charge of yours?
Vin.
And prove he's not your bastard. Speak now roundly.
Qui.
I'le cancel both your mortgages.
Vin.
A match. Now look you Sir, your quandam servant,
All but the beard he wore; for loss of which
We'le recompence him.
Qui.
O Buzzard, Buzzard, Buzzard.
Buz.
O Master, Master, Master. Your servant and no bastard,
Nor father of your Ideot in Norfolk,
He's there, and well Sir, I heard lately of him.
Qui.
How couldst thou use me thus?
Buz.
How could you turn me away so?
Tes.
Ha, ha, ha. Come hither Buzzard. Thou shalt not want a M [...]ster.
Arn.
Nor I, I hope, while my old Master lives. Y'are welcome home Sir.
Rash.
And thou to me my good old servant Arnold.
Qui.
Well fare a misery of a mans own seeking;
[Page 85] A tough one too will hold him tack to's end,
This comes with wiving at [...]hreescore and three;
Would doating fools were all serv'd so for me.
Tes.
To shut up all: Theophilus, take my Neece,
We'll shortly find a Lawfull course to marry ye.
Rash.
I will take care for't. Arthur, take my daught [...]r well bestow'd.
With a glad fathers blessing.
Mea.
And mine with it, wishing my daughter were as
Dio.
Sir take no thought for me, till my strict life
(By making man, and the world meer strangers to me,
In expiation of my late transgression
Gainst maiden modesty) shall render me
Some way deserving th'honour of a husband.
Rash.
Spoke like a good new woman.
Tes.
How now! do you look squemish on your fortune,
Sir her's a Gentleman shall maintain her blood
As worthy as your own till you defile it,
Tis best you cleanse it again.
Nat.
Cadzooks I will—
Forgiv'me for swearing, and turn Precisian, a [...]d pray
I'che nose that all my brethren whoremasters spend no worse.
Phi.
My father—
Win.
O my child.
Nat.
Though Mr. Quickssands made a Mock-marriage with his English Moor,
Ile not mock thee.
Tes.
Enough, euough. I hope all pleas'd at last
But Master Quick-sands here.
Qui.
I yeeld to fortune with an humble knee,
If you be pleas'd, your pleasure shall please me.

EPILOGUE.

Now let me be a modost undertaker
For us the players, the play and the play-maker:
If we have faild in speech or Action, we
Must crave a pardon; If the Commedy
Either in mirth, or matter be not right,
As 'twas intended unto your delight,
The Poet in hope of favour doth submit
Ʋnto your censure both himself and it,
Wishing that as y'are judges in the cause
You judge but by the antient Comick Lawes.
Not by their course who in this latter age
Have sown such pleasing errors on the stage,
Which he no more will chuse to imitate
Then they to fly from truth, and run the State.
But whether I avail, you have seen the play,
And all that in defence the Poet can say
Is, that he cannot mend it by a jest
I'th Epilogue exceeding all the rest;
To send you off upon a champing bit,
More then the scenes afforded of his wit:
Nor studies he the Art to have it said
He sculks behind the hangings as affraid
Of a hard censure, or pretend to brag
Here's all your money again brought in i'th bag
If you applaud not, when before the word
'Twas parcel'd out upon the shearing-board.
Such are fine helps; but are not practised yet
By our plain Poet who cannot forget
His wonted modesty, and humble way
For him and us, and his yet doubtful play,
Which, if receiv'd or but allow'd by you,
We and the play are yours, the Poet too.
THE Love-ſick Court …

THE Love-sick Court OR THE Ambitious Politique.

A COMEDY

Written by Richard Brome:

Nil mea, ceu mos est, commendes carmina curo
Se nisi comendent carmina dispereant.

LONDON, Printed by J. T. for A. C. and are to be sold by Henry Broom, at the Gun in Ivie-lane, 1658.

PROLOGUE.

A little wit, lesse learning, no Poetry
This Play-maker dares boast: Tis his modesty.
For though his labours have not found least grace,
It puffs not him up or in minde or face,
Which makes him rather in the Art disclame
Bold License, then to arrogate a Name;
Yet to the wit, the scholler, and the Poet,
Such as the Play is, we must dare to show it
Our judgements to but too: And without fear
Of giving least offence to any ear.
If you finde pleasure in't, we boasting none,
Nor you nor we lose by' expectation.
Sometimes at poor mens boards the curious finde
'Mongst homely fare, some unexpected dish,
Which at great Tables they may want and wish:
If in this slight Collation you will binde
Ʋs to believe you' have pleasd your pallats here,
Pray bring your friends w'you next, you know your cheor.

Drammatis Personae.

  • King of Thessaly.
  • Philargus, the Prince, supposed Son of the late slain General.
  • Disanius Two Lords.
    Justinius
  • Stratocles a Politician.
  • Philocles, A young Nobleman son of the late General, and twin with Philargus.
  • Euphalus, A Gentleman belonging to the King.
  • Geron, A curious Coxcomb and a Schollar.
  • Matho, A villain, servant to Stratocles.
  • Tersulus, A Taylor, servant to Philargus.
  • Ʋarillus, A Barbar, servant to Philocles.
  • Eudina, The Princesse.
  • Themile, Philocles Mother.
  • Placilla, Her Daughter.
  • Garula, An old Midwife.
  • Doris, Themilis Waiting-woman.
  • 4. Rusticks.

The Scene THESSALY.

THE LOVE—SICK COURT.
OR THE Ambitious Politique.

ACT. 1. SCENE. 1.

Disanius. Justinius.
Meeting.
DIs.
Good morrow my good Lord. How fares the King?
Jus.
More sick in mind then body, by th'opinion,
(Not onely of the skilful Doctors, but) of all
That come about him.
Dis.
I that have not seen him
Since he was sick, can guess, then at the cause
Of his distemper. He is sick o'th'subject;
Th'unquiet Commons fill his head and breast
With their impertinent discontents and strife.
The peace that his good care has kept'hem in
For many years, still feeding them with plenty,
Hath, like ore pampered steeds that throw their Masters,
Set them at war with him. O misery of kings!
His vertue breeds their vices; and his goodness
Pulls all their ills upon him. He has been
[Page 92] Too long too lenetive: A thousand heads
(Or say a hundred, or but ten) cut off
Of the most gross ones, the prime, leading heads
Of theirs a moneth since, had preserv'd him better
Then all his doctors pills can purge him now.
Jus.
You are too sharp Disanius. There's a means,
As milde as other of the Kings clear Acts,
In agitation now, shall reconcile
All to a common peace no doubt.
Dis.
What's that Justinius?
Jus.
Stay: Here comes Stratocles.
Ent. Strat.
Dis.
I fear, in that
Ambitious pate lies the combustable stuff
Of all this late commotion.
They con­fer aside
Str.
Why is man
Prescrib'd on earth to imitate the Gods,
But to come nearest them in power and action?
That is to be a King! That onely thought
Fills this capacious breast. A King or nothing!
Jus.
He's deep in meditation.
Dis.
On no good.
It is some divellish waking dream affects him.
I'le put him out—And as I was about
To say my Lord.
Str.
What? when Disanius?
Dis.
About a moneth since,
It stick still in my jaws. Be not ambitious,
Affect not popularity. 'Tis the most
Notable break-neck in a kingdom.
Str.
In whom?
Dis.
I know to whom I speak; would Stratocles
As well knew who he is, and what he does:
It would be better for him. Thank me not,
I wish it for the king and kingdoms good,
Not yours I do assure you, my great Lord;
Yet mine own Peer, if you forget me not.
Str.
[Page 93]
You take your time Sir to make me your mirth.
A time may come—
Dis.
When you may be my King,
And then up goes Disanius. Is't not so?
Str.
Yes, upto Court, to be king Stratocles fool.
Dis.
The Court now priviledges thee, or I would change
A cuffe with your great Souldier-ship and popular great­ness
With clowns and Citizens, and Gentry, sprung
By their late peaceful wealth, out of their dongue.
But let'em thank our pious King, not you
That claim (as merit for your service done)
Their loves and voices.
Jus.
Cease my Lords this strife.
The King may hear on't, whose perplexities
Already are too grievous. Pray be silent,
The king approaches.
Enter king & Eupathus.
Dis.
Wee'll attend his entrance.
King.
Upon those terms they are come then, Eupathus?
Eu.
Four of the chief in the commotion,
Upon the ingagement of my faith, that you
Had past your kingly word for their return
In safety, I have brought to Court, who wait
Your present will and pleasure.
King.
Bring'em in.
Disanius, welcome. I thought well to send for you
To take a Councellors part of my late cares
Into your consideration.
Dis.
I attend
Your Highness pleasure.
King.
Nearer good Disanius.
They talk privately.
Str.
Do you deal in secret king? The Commons sent for
To their examination, and this old
Antagonist of mine cal'd to confront me,
And I prepar'd by no intelligence
To fit me for th'incounter? Let'em come.
I must not be deny'd to stand as fair
[Page 94] In competition for the Crown as any man
The King himself elects for his successor;
The people are mine own thro' all his parts:
He may command their knees, but I their hearts.
King.
Stratocles, Justinius, Disanius sit.
My lords, altho'our Lawes of Thessaly
To you, as well as to our self, are known,
And all our customs, yet for orders sake
I shall lay open one to you. That is, when
A king deceaseth without issue male
(As I unfortunately must) the Commons
Are to elect their King, provided that
He be of noble blood, a sculdier, and one
That has done publick service for the Crown—
Str.
That makes for me.
King.
Or else the son of some
Great General slain in battel for his countrey
(As my Adrastus was.)
Dis.
O my brave brother!
King.
Twenty years sorrow for that Souldiers loss
Has not worn out his memory.
Str.
Your grace
Forgets not then Souldiers of fresher fame.
King.
Some other time to boast good Stratocles.
Dis.
Twere good youl'd hear the king—A general,
Or a Generals son may be elected. There
Your Majesty left.
King.
Or if the sonless King
Yet has a daughter, and he match her in
His life time to a husband that is noble,
He stands immediate heir unto the Crown
Against all contradiction.
Str.
Now think upon my service, Royal Sir.
Dis.
Now think upon my Nephewes, Royal Master,
The sons of brave Adrastus, who was slain
Twenty years since in fighting of your battel.
Str.
[Page 95]
Twere good you would hear the king. The husband of
Your daughter must be elected. There you left, sir.
King.
It rests now that a speedy choice be made
Of a fit husband, one that may acquire
Eudynas love, and peoples approbation,
The people, (for whose noise I must not rest
Till my successor be appointed to them)
Are wild till this election be made:
They have, in arms, made their demand, and wait
Enter Eupathus
My present answer.
Dis.
O here they come. These be the principals 4 Rustiks.
The heads, the heads, forsooth they call themselves.
Head-carpenter, head-smith, head-plowman, & head-shep­herd.
Kin.
Nay, pray approach; & seem no more abash'd
Here then amongst your giddy-headed rowts,
they all kneel.
Where every man's a King, and wage your powers
Gainst mine in soul defiance. Freely speak
Your grievance, and your full demand.
1. Rus.
Tis humbly all exprest in this petition.
2. Rus.

By all means have a care that, to any question, we give the King good words to his face; He is another manner of man here then we took him for at home.

3. Rus.

I sweat for't. I am sure I have scarce a dry thred in my leather lynings.

4. Rus.

They made us heads i' the countrey: But if our head-ships now, with all our countrey care should be hang'd up at court for displeasing of this good King, for the next Kings good our necks will not be set right a-again in the next Kings raign I take it.

1. Rus.
My head itches to be at home again.
2. Rus.
My head itches to be at home again.
3. Rus.
My head and heart both akes for fear. Would
I were honestly hang'd out o'the way to be rid on't.
King
There you may read my Lords what we before
Found would be their demand. Tis for a King
That must succeed me.
Dis.
[Page 96]
And because you have
Govern'd them long in peace, by which they thrive
Their wisdom would have you intail that piece
On them for after times; and so they nominate
Ambitious Stratocles to be your heir.
Str.
Envious Disanius, my merit is
Their Motive.
King.
Cease your strife.—You have stood, more in­clin'd
To lay your choise on Philocles, or Philargus
The Twin-born sons of long since slain Adrastus.
1. Rus.
May't please your Majesty we are inform'd
That in their travails unto Delphos, both
Of them are dead.
Dis.
That information
Was meerly by suggestion (I dare speak it)
Insinuated by Stratocles. They both live
And are upon return.
1. Rus.
Would we knew that.
Lord Stratocles then should pardon us. Hee's a man
Gracious amongst us. But—
2. Rus.
Philargus! O—
Philargus, be he living.
3. Rus.
I say Philocles.
Brave Philocles is the man.
Str.
False, empty weathercocks.
4. Rus.
I say Lord Stratocles is the man we know
And ought to honour.
Str.
There lives yet some hope.
Jus.
What strange confusions this? Or whither will
You run by several wayes? Philargus one,
Another Philocles; a third cries Stratocles.
In this you say you'l have no king at all.
This must be reconcil'd, or you pull ruine
Upon your selves. He, whom the king is pleas'd
To give his daughter to must be your King.
1. Rus.
All that we crave (and that upon our knees)
[Page 97] Is, that the king will graciously be pleas'd
To make a speedy choice, and give us leave
With pardon to depart, and signifie
His Royal pleasure to the doubtful countreys.
King.
Tell'em they shall expect, then, but a moneth,
In which short time my daughters marriage
Shall be consummate.
All Rus.
The Gods protect your Majesty.
Ex. Rust.
King.
And now, my Lords, the commons being at peace,
Let me prevail your private jarrs to cease.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT 1. SCENE 2.

Eudyna. Thymele weeping.
Eud.
Madam, the cause is mine; tis mine to mourn
In chief, if they be dead. They were your sons,
Tis true, and though they were your onely comforts
Upon this earth, you but resigne to heaven
The blessings that it lent you. But to me
They were a pair of equal lovers; and
By me so equally belov'd; and by
The king my father so 'bove all men respected
That I by either had been made a Queen,
Which title I for ever will disclaim
If they be dead.
Thy.
O my Philargus. O my Philocles!
Ye Gods I know they did not seek your Counsels
Nor dare to approach your altars, but with all
Due reverence and required ceremony.
And could your Delphian Oracle, when they
Were friendly competitioners for love,
Answer them but with death?
Eud.
The rumor, Madam,
Carries so little shew of truth, that you
Do ill to take so deep a sense of it;
[Page 98] Much worse t'expostulate, as if you had
An injury done you by the Gods. Have you
Been from mine infancy my governess,
And careful councel-giver; and must I
Find cause to chide you now? come dry these tears.
Enter Garrula.
Gar.
Where's my sweet princess?
Where's my Lady governess?
Eud.
O Garrula, welcome. I could never wish
Thy company more usefully: For thou bring'st
Some recreation on thy countenance alwayes.
Gar.
I am glad my countenance pleases you. It may:
For I have on it now (could you discern'em)
A thousand joyes dancing within these wrincles
More then my feeble failing tongue can utter.
And that's a grief to me 'mong all my joyes;
The failing of the tongue, the tongue, the tongue
Is a great grief to any woman. But
To one in years, and well in years, as I am,
It is a grief indeed, more then the loss
Of any other member.
Eud.
But I pray thee
Let not that grief deprive us of the hearing
Of, at least, one of thy whole thousand joyes.
Gar.
Tis a report of joy and wonder, princess;
Enough to make not onely you, and you,
But King and kingdom glad, could I but utter't.
Eud.
Thou dost speak well enough, and enough too,
I pray thee tell it.
Thy.
Tis some faign'd stuffe
She hopes to palliate our sorrowes with.
Gar.
'Tis a report, worth more then all the stories
That I my self have told in child-bed chambers,
To restore spirit to the pallid flesh.
And I have been a woman as good at it
(Without vain boast bee't spoke) as any she
In Thessaly, that ere durst undertake
[Page 99] The office of a Midwise: And that the queen
Your Mother knew, when I delivered her
Of the sweet babe (your self.) She is in blisse
Now in Elisium. But you, Madam Governesse,
Can yet remember good old Garrula,
That took into the light your twin-born sons,
And thereby hangs a tale—
Thy.
What means this woman?
Eud.
Good Garrula, thy newes? thy present story?
Gar.
'Tis such a story, that could I but utter't
With volubility of tongue!—But O
This tongue, that fails me now; for all the helps
Of Syrups, and sweet sippings. I still go
She sips oft of a bottle ather girdle.
Provided, as you see, to cherish it.
And yet it falters with me.
Eud.
We shall ha't
Anon I hope. Placilla, whats your news?
Ent. Placilla.
Pla.
'Tis excellent Madam. And I was ambitious
To bring you the first taste of it. But if
Garrula has in that prevented me,
I can with no lesse joy relate it yet.
My brothers are return'd, and safe, from Delphos.
Thy.
Be thou as true as th'Oracle.
Eud.
Now, Madam.
Pla.
Mother, tis true.
Gar.
'Tis that I would ha'told you
Had not my tongue fail'd me i'th' utterance.
Eud.
Thy tongue ran fast enough, but lost its way.
Pla.
Three minutes, Madam, brings'em to your presence.
Eud.
How is it with you, Madam? Let not joy
Beget a worse effect then did your fears.
Thym. swounds
Help, Garrula.
Gar.
Ods pity, what dee mean.
Madam, look up, and speak up too you were best,
Do you know who talks to you? Speak; and speak well too.
I shall speak that will be worse for you else.
[Page 100] Madam, you know, that I know what I know.
Thy.
I am well I thank you, Garrula.
Gar.
O are you so?
Eud.
I have observ'd that often in her language,
This chattring Midwife glanceth at the knowledge
Of some strange hidden thing, which like as with
A Charm, she keeps my Governess in aw with.
I guess it but some trifle: For I know
The Lady is right vertuous; yet it may
Be worth my inquisition at fit time.
Thy.
You have felt the comforts of my friendship Gar­rula,
And had you common charity, you'd forbear me.
Gar.
I—done Madam. Be secure. But yet,
Though I forbear to speak, I not forget.
Eud.
You have not yet, Placilla, told the means
A shout & crying Phi­lar. & Phi­locles, &c.
Of your rich knowledge.
Pla.
Nor shall I need now Madam
These shouts of joy that follow'd them to Court
Attend them to your presence.
Eud.
O let us meet'em. Madam, come away.
Thy.
O ye Gods, I thank ye.
Ex. omnes pret. Gar.
Gar.
I have a son there too, as dear to me
As any Mothers onely born can be,
Whose name's not voic'd with theirs. Yet by your favour
Great Madam Governess, he has discharg'd
The office of a Governor ore your sons,
As well as you have over the Kings daughter.
And they have suck'd more of his Helycon
Then she has of your doctrin: which their breeding
sips he bottle.
Together with their Travels through his care
Will testifie (I doubt not) to my honor,
That have brought forth a son of such performance.
Dis.
Did not I say, 'twas Stratocles that rais'd
Ent. Dis. Jus. Phila. Philo. Eud. Thy: Pla. Geron.
That hideous rumor of their deaths, among
His wilde idolators, in hope to gain
Election by their ignorance and rudeness?
Jus.
[Page 101]
'Twas well those factious heads were wrought to come
Before the King to finde his clemencie,
And probabilily that these were living.
Dis.
And how they then shrunk in their necks from Stratocles!
It has so laid the flames of his ambition,
That these may safely now tread out the fire.
Phila.
Welcom again my princely Nephews, welcom.
Phil.
Thanks, courteous Uncle.
Thy.
You interrupt me, brother.
Dis.
Good woman, cry thee mercy. Mothers are such things!
Gar.
Why, what things are we mothers?
Dis.
O the old night-piece with her dark lanthorne by her.
Gar.
You'l give us leave to take
The comforts due unto us in our age,
For which we suffer'd sorrow in our youth!
Our children are our children young or old.
Dis.
So is my horse my horse.
Gar.
You have repli'd,
As Whilome did a Councellour at Law,
Who said his adverse Advocate had pleaded
To as much purpose as a hen i'th'forehead.
Dis.
Geron. th'art welcom. Thou still keepst thy humor,
Thy travels ha'not chang'd thee. Thou camest home
As wise as thou wentst out.
Ger.
So Whilome said,
A miser, having much increas'd his store,
He had as much still as he had before.
Dis.
Enough, I'le give thee over.
Thy.
O my dear off-spring; every sight of you
Is a new recompence, and satisfaction
For all the pain and travel of your birth.
In you your fathers memory shall live
Beyond the malice of the grave and death:
And I, when my rejoycing shall be full,
And cannot take addition, freely yeelding
My flesh to dust, shall yet be blest by those
VVho shall give testimony to your vertue.
Philar.
[Page 102]
Twere a sufficient spur to noble actions
To be rewarded but with your content,
Which to procure we make our businesse.
Thy.
Philocles,
Your brow is clouded. Has the Oracle
Adjudg'd against you. Pray let us partake
The knowledge of the Delphian decree;
And which of you stands highest in the favour
Of wise Apollo, to be husband to
Princesse Eudyna here the Kingdoms heir.
What speaks the Oracle?
Philoc.
Such a Verdict, Madam,
Requires an O Edipus to construe it.
I neither know't, nor am solicitous
After the meaning.
Gar.
Wisely spoken, Pupil.
So Whilome answered an Aegyptian Porter
To one demanding what he bore conceal'd?
Tis therefore cover'd that thou shouldst not know▪
The cases are alike.
Eud.
Pray let us hear it.
Cannot your Tutor Geron play the Hermes
T'interpret it?
Gar.
I am not Aenigmatical:
But all for Apothegmes. Besides, I say
(As Whilome Aristippus of a Riddle)
It is not safe to loose what being bound
Doth trouble us so much.
Gar.
Let me come to't.
Dis.
Yes by all means: For as one Whilome said
The blinde are best i'th' dark.
Gar.
My Lord, your trumps
Are ever shot at me. Blinde as I am,
I perceive that. And make much of your Riddle,
I know both what it can and will come to,
Better without the sight of it, then all
[Page 103] You can, with all your wise constructions.
And so I leave you.
Thy.
Not in anger, Garrula.
Gar.
Madam, you know I know. I must take leave
To take a Nap▪
Exit.
Dis.
And Governour Geron, wait upon your mother,
Trust our cares with your charge.
Ger.
So Whilome said
A School boy, when another rais'd his top,
Let me alone, my self can keep it up.
Exit.
Eud.
And now let me entreat that we may hear
The hidden sentence. Happily so many
May guesse at the intent.
Dis.
She longs to hear
Which of the two is prickt to be her husband.
Phi.
Here it is. If there be any thing.
Dis.
Let me be Clerk. I hope at least to read it.
Contend not for the Jewel, which
Ere long shall both of you enrich.
Pursue your Fortune: For tis she
Shall make you what you seem to be.
Apollo, thy great wisdom hath quite fool'd mine.
Philo.
Nothing but contradictions.
Thy.
As how, Philocles.
Philo.
He commands here.
Contend not for the Jewel—we agree,
Eudyna is the Jewel. —which shall both of you enrich.
How shall she enrichus both? Can she be wife to us both?
Then here he bids
Pursue your Fortune.—And we both agree
Eudyna is that Fortune too: she's both
The Jewel we must not contend for; and
The Fortune we must both pursue. Then here
He sayes tis she shall make us what we seem to be.
What do we seem? we are no Hypocrites
In flesh or spirit; no phantastick bodies
[Page 104] Or shadows of humanity.
Philar.
No, Delphos is but a den of jugglers, which profanely
Abuse divinity, and pretend a God
Their Patron to authorize their delusions.
Dis.
Nephews, the Gods had need be cautilous
For what they speak if you may be their Judges.
Thy.
What thinks good Justinius?
Jus.
My Lords, here's two commands;
One, that you not contend to gain the jewel;
The other, that you both pursue your fortune.
Both these commands are thus to be obey'd;
Contend not for her as to violate
Your unexampled friendship, which you are
Renown'd for ore all Greece; And both pursue
Your fortune in her without eithers grudge,
At tothers happiness in her choice.
Philar.
Noble Justinius, thanks.
Philoc.
This we can do.
Philar.
And for the happiness which we both aspire to
We here confirm the friendship long since plighted,
Which never shall be broken by Philargus.
Eud.
Noble Philargus.
Philoc.
So vows Philocles,
'Tis not the cloudy language of the Gods
Shall make our breasts tempestuous or stormy:
But with the same serenity and quiet,
As heretofore our hearts shall mingle still,
And fortifie their truce. Let the event
Expound their Ridle. If good, it is our merit;
If bad, we know our vertue can correct it.
Mean time Philargus take the word of Philocles,
That though there be no happiness on earth
I can esteem above Philargus friendship,
But fair Eudyna's love, which onely is
The treasure I can covet from Philargus;
And cannot look to live but to enjoy it
[Page 105] Rather then justle with his friendship, I
Will die to lose it.
Eud.
Noble Philocles.
Philar.
You have made my vow, my brother Philocles,
And friend, which is above it. I will seek
And rather die then fail to gain her love:
But that, and the whole kingdom in addition
Must divide our friendship or affection.
As we are Twins in birth, we'le be in mind
Unto our latest breath. Let Greece hereafter
Forget to mention the Tyndarides
With their alternate Deities, and tell
Of two Thessalian brothers could refuse
A happiness (which onely is not Heaven)
In detestation of priority;
Would not be happy, 'cause they might not share
An individual, both Time and Thing.
Eud.
Love, and ambition (I have heard men say)
Admit no fellowship; It holds not here.
These will have neither wife nor crown alone.
They each desire my love; but neither can
Enjoy't unless he were the other man.
My love is doubly tane, yet must gain neither,
Unless I could enjoy them both together. O, ye Gods!
Why made ye them two persons, and assign'd
To both but one inseparable mind?
Or, why was I mark'd out to be that one,
That loves and must embrace, or two, or none;
O my perplexity.
Sinks.
Dis.
Look to the Princess.
Philar.
Madam. How fares the life of goodness.
Philoc.
She sinks. Dear Mother, Sister; bring your aids.
Philar.
To keep the world alive give your assistance.
Jus.
Ye Gods be now auspicious.
Dis.
A love-qualm.
To bed with her and call for Cupids aid,
[Page 106] He best can cure the wound that he has made.
Exeunt omnes.
Explicit Actus primus.

ACT. 2. SCENE. 1.

Doris reading a Letter.
Do.
My Lesbia, my Cinthia, my Licoris
Or (which is best of names) my lovely Doris—that [...]. I.
I still am thine and cannot commutate,
I am as certain to thee as thy fate.
Tis not my study, or my travails can
Make me to thee appear another man:
Thou may'st affirm of me as Whilom did
Xantippe of her husband whom she chid,
Grave Socrates regardless of his worth
He still return'd the same that he went forth.
Before I visit thee, thus may'st thou hear on
Thine in the tribulation of love —Geron.
Ha, ha, ha. Old Whilom Geron,! art thou come again?
Could Delphos not detain, nor the Sea swallow thee
But I must be in danger to be punish'd
With the porcupine bristles? Fate deliver me.
En. Placilla
Pla.
Doris, you must be vigilant in attendance,
And see that no man pass this lobby, towards
Her graces lodging. Tis your charge: look to't.
Dor.
Mistress you know your Mother laid that charge
On me before, and I am ready here
To answer every commer in his kind
Had you forgot it?
Pla.
Pardon me, I had;
But my care hurts not. One thing more good Doris.
If my dear brother Philocles come to visit,
Prithe call me. Speak, wilt thou.
Do.
—help your head.
[Page 107] I must not stir from hence, yet I must come
To call you forth. Away, some body comes.
Pla.
I trust unto thee Doris.
Exit.
Dor.
What a sick Court is here? Shee's love-struck too.
I can with half a sense find her disease;
But cannot guess the object of her love.
She keeps the fire so close up in her bosom,
That she will sooner perish by't, then suffer
A spark of it flie out to make discovery.
The Princess she's love-sick for two; and her
Despair of gaining either's her consumption.
But what think I of their loves, when mine own
Is trouble enough? Now the visitants;
My great Lords Howdies are upon the entry,
And the unwelcom'st first.
Ent. Matho.
Ma.
Good morrow Lady.
May I crave admittance to the Lady Governess?
Dor.
Yes, you may crave it Sir, But not obtain it:
Her nearness to the Princess at this time
Is by so strict necessity requir'd.
Ma.
May I prevail then, to impart the duty
I have in charge, unto the Ladies daughter?
Dor.
That is the Mistriss whom I wait upon,
Though now at remote distance: She attends
Her Mother at this instant, and her Mother
The Princess in much privacy. If I
May be thought worthy to receive the knowledge
Of what you have in trust unto the Princess,
It shall be orderly convey'd unto her Grace.
Ma.
Lord Stratoeles, solicitous for glad tydings,
(Beseeching that her Grace be pleas'd to take
The tender of his service; and affirming
Upon his honour that no rest affects him
Until he shall receive a perfect knowledge
Of her recovery) prayes to be advertis'd
In what condition of health she fares;
[Page 108] Or to gain leave to visit her himself.
Dor.
Sir, you have lost much time: you might have said
How does the Princess? And I answer thus,
She is most dangerously sick; not to be seen
By him or any man.
Ma.
Yet let her know
My Lords obsequious care for her recovery.
Dor.
I'le tell my Mistriss, who shall certifie
Unto my Lady, who shall intimate
Unto the Princess what you have left in trust
With me, her Graces hand-maid thrice remov'd.
Ma.
I will acquaint my Lord; who for your care
Shall upon his advancement to the Crown
Give me command, who will give present order
Unto my man for your promotion.
Your diligence deserves it.
Exit.
Dor.
My great Lords especially parasite. I am beholden to you.
Here comes another; an importunate,
Ent. Tersu­lus.
Though impertinent suitor of mine own.
Ter.
My beauteous Doris, first my love presented
Unto your self, my Lord Philargus craves
To know how fares the Princess.
Dor.
This comes nearer
To my regard then tother; and deserves
A comfortabler answer. She's not well Sir,
But much amended in her health. 'Tis like,
Your Lord (would he approach to visit her)
Shall find a fair admission to her Grace.
Ter.
I dare not (to delay my Lord a minute
Of these glad tidings.) Stay to prosecute
My love-suit to your self.
Dor.
No, no; away.
Away good Tersulus; and hazard not
Your Lords, for your own fortunes.
Ter.
Yet my Doris—
Dor.
[Page 109]
Yet again man.
Ter.
Be pleas'd to think of me.
Dor.
I shall, and better of you when you are gone.
Ter.
Wing'd with that hope, I fly.
Exit.
Dor.
A pretty nimble fellow and a Taylor.
Ent. Varill.
I could almost affect him, did not this
More supple handed Barber put him by.
Var.
Sweet Doris! thus, by me Lord Philocles
Salutes the Princess.
Kiss.
Dor.
This requires an answer
Of health indeed.
Var.
How fares her highness?
Dor.
Well. Exce [...]ding well, and longs to see your Lord.
Var.
I'le hast to tell him so
Dor.
Nay, good Varillus,
I have not gain'd a conference with you
Since your return from Delphos.
Var.
At more leasure
I'le tell thee wonders, Doris.
Dor.
Something now.
Var.
Ha'you seen your lover Geron, the old tutor,
Since our arival?
Dor.
Here is an Epistle
Came from him to my hands this morning. Hang him.
Var.
Well: he has been the whole mirth of our journey
In the discovery of his love to you.
His meat, his drink, his talk, his sleep, has all
Been Doris, Doris, nothing but your remembrance
Has been the trouble of his company;
Ile tell thee at large hereafter. The fair Princess
Is well you say.
Dor.
She was well when I left her,
But subject to much passion: She is well
And ill, and well again all in three minutes.
Great Ladies may be so. But if I should
B [...] sick and well, and sick again and well
Again as oft as she; the world would say
[Page 110] I had it—And had been a courtier, to some purpose.
Var.
They would say the Handmaid had been handled so.
Would they?
Dor.
Like enough, but great ones must not be talk'd on
Var.
You have detain'd me to my undoing.
See, my Lord!
Enter Philocles.
Dor.
Ile send his sister to appease him.
Exit.
Philo.
You have done ill Varillus to neglect
A duty of that consequence, that I
Expected in your quick return, was this
A time to loyter?
Var.
My good Lord, the princess
Is well again; restor'd to absolute health.
Philoc.
Tis happy news. But why was I delay'd
In this accompt? was it too precious for me?
Redeem your fault by some insuing service,
Or you may lose a master, that has lov'd you.
Ex. Var.
I must proceed to gain Eudinas love
From my Philargus or l loose my self.
And gaining it, I must sorgo Philargus,
And equally be lost. O sister, welcome.
Enter Placilla.
I must request your aid.
Pla.
In any thing
Wherein I may be useful, best of brothers.
Philoc.
I would intreat you be my advocate
In love unto Eudina.—O, but hold,
Shall I be treacherous unto my brother?
A brother! What's a brother? A meer name;
A title which we give to those that lodg'd
In the same womb; so bedfellowes are brothers;
So men, inhabiting one town, or countrey
Are brothers too: for though the place containing
Be greater, the relation is the same.
A friend! I that's the thing I violate,
Then which, nor earth nor heaven hath ought more sa­cred▪
Tis my Philargus, nay my self I injure,
[Page 111] If I content my self.
Pla.
Why, brother Philocles—
Did I say brother? How my tongue conspires
To torture me! If Brother be a naked
Title or name (as he suggests) I would
It had nor being, name, nor title. Philocles
Y'are passionate.
Philoc.
Fond reason I disclaim thee,
Love is a strain beyond thee, and approaches
The Gods estate: Friendship's a moral vertue
Fitter [...]r disputation, then observance.
Eudina. O Eudina! In what price
Art thou with me, for whom I cast away
The Souls whole treasury Reason and Vertue?
Placilla, you must wo Eudina for me.
Do you startle at it? Pray do't, as you love me.
Pla.
If I were she you should not need an advocate.
Philoc.
I charge you by this kiss.—
Pla.
Your wages
Corrupts your agent to be false. O whither;
Into what Sands will the rash Pilot, Love?
Drive this weak vessel? did I call it Love?
Tis sooty, hellish fire; unlawful flame:
Yet such as we may easier tax, then tame.
Philoc.
What troubles you Placilla? O you are
Already entertain'd to mediate
For him you better love, Philargus, do:
He best deserves her; Ile wo for him too.
Enter Doris.
Dor.
Madam, my Lady calls for you? My Lord
The Princess has tane notice of your visit
Exit Plac.
And wishes you draw nearer if you please.
Philoc.
I meet that wish with swift, but fearful feet.
My joyes are bitter, and my woes are sweet.
Exit.
Dor.
I have heard men say when they on gamesters look
(Though equally affected to both parties,
Or both were strangers to'em yet) they'l yeeld
[Page 112] A secret inclination which should win.
I am for Philocles, now, against Philargus,
Who is as noble, and as free to me,
As ever Philocles was. But tarry Doris;
You have a bett upon the game I take it,
Your love unto Varillus. If his Lord
Rise to a Kingdom, you may hope to climbe
The ladder of a Ladyship by the man.
But not too fast: Here's one pursues the game
That is as like to win. Why if he does?
Enter Phlargus
His follower Tersulus loves me past Varillus,
And may as much advance me. But I love not
Him, And the love of honour above husbands
Has been so common among Ladies, that
The fashions stale and ougly.
Philar.
So't must be.
And so by transposition of my love
I shall be quiet, and Philocles doubly happy.
Doris, go seek my mother, and perceive
If I may see the Princess.
Dor.
Yes my Lord.
Exit.
Philar.
Love, thou art well compar'd to fire, which where
It doth obey and serve being commanded
By higher powers of the soul, it fares
Like to the stone or jewel of a ring,
Which joyns the orb, and gives it price and luster:
So glorious is that love, so necessary.
But, where it rules and is predominant,
It tiranizeth; Reason is imprison'd;
The will confined; and the memory
(The treasury of notions) clean exhausted;
And all the sences slavishly chain'd up
To act th'injunctions of insulting love,
Pearch'd on the beauty of a woman. Thou
Masculine love, known by the name of friendship
Art peaceful and morigerous: But that
[Page 113] Of woman, is imperious and cruel.
VVhy should I then lose Philocles for Eudina?
Ent. Eudi­na. Thymile Eudi. rea­ding a letter.
Why? Can I look on her and ask a Reason?
O the divinity of woman! sure
There is no heaven without'em. If the Gods
Should thrust out Jove as he depos'▪l his Father
And elect me to be their thonderer
I'ld not drink Nectar to forgo Eudina.
Thy.
Fie, fie Philargus, y'are a ssugish Lover.
I have been careful for you, yea and partial
Against your brother Philocles, to prefer
Your love to his: And you to suffer him
A whole hour opportunity before you!
Philar.
Has he been here?
Thy.
And is. Onely for you
I have beguil'd him of her presence, that
Till you have made first presentation
Of love to her he shall have no access.
Philar.
Now Philocles, I suffer in thy injury;
And to proceed in it were treachery.
I would retire—But that magnetique beauty
To which are chain'd thousands of hearts and eyes
Has captiv'd mine: nor must I seem to slight
A mothers care. She's not the first (tis known)
That of two sons hath best affected one.
Thy.
Why move you not Philargus towards the Prin­cesse.
Philar.
Madam, you see she's busy.
Eud. throws a­way the Let­ter.
Eud.
Stratocles—
May thy ambition hoist thee into air;
And thy loose wings, like thy licentious paper,
There failing thee, let fall thy vicious body
To earth, as here thy name lies to be trod on.
Philargus, you are welcome.
Philar.
Princely Madam,
That language from your gracious lips is powerful
To save him from the grave, that onely lives
[Page 114] By your free favours.
Eud.
Nay, my dear Philargus,
I thought me nearer to you, then that you
Should rove at me with Courtship. Stratocles
(The emblem of whose pride lies there in paper)
Shot from afar indeed; yet, like a Jove
(A self-conceited one) presum'd to strike
Love by command into me by his Letters.
Philar.
I cannot flatter pride, nor undervalue
Abilities. 'Tis true that Siratocles
Has been a useful servant to the State;
But, doubtless, he would make as ill a Master.
Eud.
No more of him.
Philar.
Nor more be thought of him.
And therefore Madam, by your fair command,
To avoid all Court-circumlocutions,
I tender thus my service, and crave hearing.
Eud.
You have it freely.
Thy.
To avoid all lets,
I will withdraw my self.
Exit.
Philar.
The King has graciously been pleas'd, in lieu
Of my slain fathers services; and for love
To us his sons, (by us much undeserv'd)
To recommend unto your noble choice
My brother and my self. You standing doubtful
Whether to chuse, we to avoid dispute
Of violating friendship, did implore
The Councel of the Oracle to direct
You in th'election. But the hidden sence
In the dark sentence hath perplext both you
And us with more anxiety.
Eud.
It is too true.
Philar.
Yet you are not prescrib'd; your choice is free.
To take your lot in Philocles or me.
We both, by strong injunction must pursue
Your sacred Love, yet keep our friendship true.
[Page 115] Then thus illustrious Madam.
He kneels.
Eud.
Not so low.
Philar.
As low as future duty must compel me,
When you shall be my Queen, let me beseech
The favour that I seek and would obtain,
Equal with heavenly bliss, to shine on Philocles.
Eud.
That he may be your King?
Philar.
May he prove so.
Eud.
Be all example lost.
Philar.
Friendship, with favour, may
Hold between King and Subject: But one throne
Cannot estate two Kings; Love's number's one.
Eud.
O my Philargus, you have open'd now
The meaning of the Oracle. I have the sence
Most perfectly. You have beyond example
Preserv'd your friendship with your brother; and
In wooing for him have won me to your self.
I am your own.
She kisses him.
Philar.
I am amidst the Gods.
The wealth o'th'world, the beauty of the Heavens,
And powers of both shall not redeem my interest.
—Provided that I lose not Philocles.
Ent. Philo. Thy. Pla.
Eud.
In that your constancy you win me more.
Thy.
Your importunity hath prevail'd. See Philocles,
The Princeis, and Philargus.
Philoe.
O, you are partial.
He sinks.
Pla.
O help, my brother; speak, dear Philocles.
Philar.
Ye Gods, how comes this? Let me raise him up,
Brother, and friend; speak, 'tis Philargus calls thee.
Philoc.
Philargus, let me go. 'Tis your advantage.
Eud.
Let me request the cause of your disturbance,
Good Philocles.
Philo.
No other but my self.
Honour'd Eudyna: For, who feeds to danger
Upon a dish he loves, ought not to blame
The meat, but his unbridled appetite.
Pla.
[Page 116]
How do you now? What a cold moisture
Spreads ore his temples here.
Eud.
Let me come to him:
Thy.
I can read his grief.
Eud.
What's that to the redress?
Thy.
The Delphian God, medcines inventor knowes
That and not I.
Eud.
His grief's a jealous passion
Upon my suppos'd favour to Philargus.
Shake it off Philocles, I am thine, as much
As ere I was, or his.
Philoc.
It is no jealousy
Onely a fear Philargus had broke friendship:
So, my souls better part exited, left
The other languishing.
Philar.
Had you expir'd
In that belief, and I had understood it,
My shadow should have posted after yours
Unto the Elisian fields to vindicate
So causeless imputation.
Thy:
And because
You charg'd my son with partiallity
Let us remove, Philargus, come Placilla.
Eud.
You will not take him from me. Stay Philargus.
Thy.
What would you do with both?
Philar.
I may not stir,
When she, whose power above me countermands
The precepts of the Gods requires my stay.
Thy.
What not to give you brother Philocles
An opportunity for equal hearing?
Your grace will not deney't him.
Eud.
True, I may not.
Philar.
That spell convinces all. Friendships above,
And must controul obedience, and love.
Exit with Thym & Placil.
Tis not to injure thee my dear Philargus,
That here I linger, to oppose thy love;
[Page 117] But to prefer it.
Eud.
What sayes Philocles?
Philoc.
To say I love you, Madam, with a zeal
That dares to meet the tryal of Martyrdom,
And suffer't for your sake, might get a name,
A glorious one, and an immortal Crown:
Yet so I should forgo (in leaving you
On earth, a heaven on it) the bliss,
Which, grieving, I should in Elisium miss.
No, I will love you better then to die,
And be mine own chief mourner; yet must crave,
Under your gracious favour, leave to suffer
More then a thousand deaths, that is, to live
And part with my fair hopes in you for ever.
Eud.
What means my Philocles?
Philoc.
Princely Madam,
Consider the necessity, which now
By further search I gather from the hidden
Oraculous perduit; by which I am tied
Not to contend for you, that is, I must not
Wound friendship in Philargus: B [...]t pursue
My fortune, which is to gain love from you.
For whom it sayes not, but the meanings plain,
I for Philargus should your love obtain.
The Gods deal after as they please with me,
My sute is that you take Philargus.
Eud.
O—
Philocles you have made a double conquest
For you have got the victory of me
Which was before assign'd unto Philargus.
Your fortune thus embraces you
she kisses him
Philoc.
This now,
And with Philargus friendship were to me
A fortune 'bove the envy of the Gods.
Eud.
He cannot disallow't. He woo'd me for you,
And won me to himself, as you have now
Suing for him.
Philoc.
[Page 118]
I must not hold you then.
His title, as his friendship precedes mine.
Eud.
Yet still the choice is mine. I may take you
Without offence to him. But now he comes,
Ent. Philar. Thy. Pla.
And has again an equal interest,
Strange love! In others absence I took either
And lov'd each best; Now both at once appear,
Neither is mine. Fate, let me die to one
Rather then live in this confusion.
Thy.
Now Madam, whethers love do you approve.
Eud.
Confound me not with question. They are each
Wedded to others friendship: Either is
More studious for the other then himself.
Philar.
And ever must.
Philoc.
And will be.
Eud.
So will I
For both of you then for my self.
Thy.
Alass.
Eud.
Then let's continue thus with Maiden love,
With modest freedom, unsuspected joyes,
As we had all been formed in one womb,
Till Heaven determine of us.
Ent. King and Eupathus.
King.
To determine
Of you Eudyna, is by heaven committed
In present unto me. On you depends
The future glory and prosperity,
Both of my house and Kingdom. Tis besides,
Exacted of me by my near Allies,
And by my Subjects (whom I must secure)
To constitute a Successor: And no longer
Will I expect your answer, then five dayes.
By then you must declare who is your husband;
Or else expect one from my self; the man
Whose name I am as loth to mention
As you to hear, even Stratocles.
Eud.
Nay, death first.
King.
[Page 119]
Be you obedient; and by the way,
Take my approvement of Lord Philocles,
Not that I slight Philargus.
Eud.
Here's a mystery too,
As dark as that from Delphos. He approves
My choice of Philocles, slighting not Philargus.
King.
Come both you equal brothers; leave her to
Her thoughts a while.
Ambo.
In all obedience.
Ex. King, &c.
Thy.
What strange amazement hath surpriz'd you Ma­dam?
No study, nor no strife can alter fate
Or the decrees, the Gods determinate.
A husband you shall have, be confident.
Be, as you were; secure of the event,
Till time produce it.
Pla.
Madam, be your self.
Eud.
Yet five dayes for love's war. Jove grant I have
By then, to end the strife, a peaceful grave.
Explicit Actus secundus.

ACT 3. SCENE 1.

Garrula. Geron.
Gar.
Would you thus offer, by your own disease
To shorten your Mothers dayes? Or can you pine
And I not grieve? or cannot grief kill me
Do you think?
Ger.
A wise Philosopher Whilome did affirm,
That women who have past the fire of love
Have hearts, which grief can neither pierce, ne move.
Gar.
Son, your Philosophy fails you, as your love
Blinds you: For Cupids fire I know may be
Quench'd by old age: But grief's unquenchable.
Sips her bottle.
My tongue still falters with me (there's my grief)
[Page 120] And there are not so many fadoms 'twixt
A womans tongue and heart, but grief may find
The bottom, but for care to keep it up
By sending down an Antidote before it.
Sips again.
Ger.
But Whilom did the love-sick Poet prove,
No antidote against the power of Love.
Gar.
Forbear your Whiloms, and your old said saws,
And since you are in love, and by that love
Grown sick with the concealment.
Ger.
As Whilom
Th' Athenian boy who stole a fox did hide
Under his coat his theft from being descried
Until it tore his Gentals—his intrals
I should have said.
Gar.
No more I say
Of your disease, but to the cure, which is
The love of Doris. How ha'you try'd her, son.
Ger.
By oratory, Epistles, and by gifts
Which Whilome Ovid said were best of shifts.
Gar.
Yes, such a gift it might be, and so fastened.
Ger.
But she, as Whilom said Anominus
Retorteth all with scorn injurious.
Gar.
Yet will you leave your Whiloms? And go seek
My Lady Governess? say I would speak with her.
Ger.
But Whilome said Diogenes (tis true)
To one that would, I will not speak with you.
Gar.
Will you say as I say; and do as y'are bidden?
It is not her great Lady-ships daughters hand-maid
Shall scorn my son while I know what I know.
If you love Doris, run and tell her so.
Ger.
For Doris love, as Whilome Daedalus.
I will take wing. But see I am prevented.
Ent. Thymil.
Thy.
O Garrula! well found, I was in quest of you.
Gar.
And I was eene a sending for you, Madam.
Thy.
What an imperious beldam's this. But I
Must humour her. Sending for me do you say?
[Page 121] For what, good Garrula.
Gar.
Sending for you? Yes Madam, so I said,
And sai't again. What, what, I know what I know.
You know I do; and that there is no such
Distinction 'twixt the honours of your birth
And place; and mine of age and knowledge, but
You might vouchsafe the summons when I send.
Thy,
What needs this Garrula? I am here you see.
Gar.
You know I know, and have deserv'd some favors,
I do not bost for what. You know.
Thy.
O me!
Who trust those secrets whereon honour rests
To custody in Mercenary breasts
Do slave nobility; and though they pay
A daily ransom, nere redem't away.
Pray let us be more private, though indeed
I love your son for his great care of mine.
Gar.
O, do you so? Go forth son Geron, till
I call. All shall go well Ile warrant thee.
Ger.
Whilom, so
Said a Physitian, meaning to restore,
And kill'd the Patient was but sick before.
Exit.
Thy.
Why Garrula do you maintain a strife
Still in my grieved mind 'twixt hope and fear?
Cannot so many years of my known kindness
Win yet a confidence of secrefie.
You are as deeply bound by oath too as my self.
Gar.
I do confess my oath, and would not break it;
Yet, Madam, as you are a woman, you
May know a broken oath is no such burthen
As a great secret is; besides the tickling
A woman has to in and out with't. Oh
The tongue itche is intollerable! And were I
A woman of tongue, as most are of my calling
(Though Midwives ha'been held the best at secret
Co [...]ncel keeping) it had been out I fear.
Thy.
[Page 122]
But still take heed dear Garrula.
Gar.
Yes Madam.
Yet there are kindnesses requir'd on your part.
Thy.
Have I not still been kind?
Gar.
My memory serves me; and but that my tongue
Now falters with me—I could recount
Sips.
All the rewards I have had from time to time,
Since you translated me from a Country houswife,
Into the Midwife Royal; what in Gowns,
In Gold, in Jewels, Chains and Rings; and (which
I prize'bove all) my syrrops and my sippings.
Sips.
Thy.
Your place of honour in the Court—
Gar.
What, what?
I hope I had that before i'che Kings favour,
As his Queens Midwife. She is in Elisium.
Sip.
Thy.
Then Garrula your learned sons preferment,
Tutor and Governour to my Sons.
Gar.
Thereby
Hangs a tale, Madam. Now I come to th'point;
My son affects your daughters hand-maid Doris,
Who slights his love. I must now by your power
Obtain her for my Son.
Thy.
Be confident,
Though I confess I hold her worthless of him.
Gar.
I tell him so: But love has blinded him.
Ho Geron, I say Geron, come and hear.
Ent. Geron.
Ger.
So Whilome prisoners have been cal'd to come
From dungeon deep to hear a blacker doom.
Thy.
Geron, be comforted. By all my power,
Doris shall be your own.
Ger.
Then Whilome, as
Ovid his Corynna sweet, said o—
Ent. Doris.
She comes, she comes. My joyes do overflow.
Thy.
Now Doris, what portends your hast? Speak Maid,
Is it to Geron, or to me, your business?
Dor.
His ill looks, had almost made me miscarry'c.
[Page 123] Madam, the Princess instantly desires
Your company.
Thy.
But by her Graces favour,
And your leave, Doris, I will trench so far
On both your patiences, and for your good,
As to be witness of an interchange
Of some few words twixt Geron and your self.
Why look you from him so? he loves you, Doris.
Dor.
That's more then I ere knew, or read, by all
He speaks or writes to me. He cloaths his words
In furres and hoods, so, that I cannot find
The naked meaning of his business, Madam.
Thy.
Speak plainly to her, Geron.
Gar.
To her Son.
Ger.
My business is the same, that Whilome drew
Demosthenes to Corinth, some repentance,
So I pay not too dear.
Dor.
Lo you there, Madam.
Gar.
You must speak plainer, Son.
Thy.
And be you kinder, Doris.
Dor.
But not so kind, good Madam, as to grant
I know not what.
Ger.
O forfeit not the praise
That Whilome Aristotle gave your Sex,
To be inrich'd with piety and pitty.
Dor.
I know not what to pitty, but your want
Of utterance. It is some horrid thing
That you desire, and are asham'd to speak it.
Ger.
No, gentle Doris, nothing but the thing,
Whereby great Alexander Whilome said,
He knew himself a mortal, and no God,
Coition—
Dor.
Be it what it will; I cannot
Give what I understand not. Y'are too aloof.
Gar.
There's comfort, Son. And I'le give thee instru­ctions
To come more close to her.
Thy.
[Page 124]
I'le ease your care,
And be my self his Agent. Hee's too learned,
Geron, you speak too learnedly, as if
You woo'd a Muse: And Doris understands not,
But by your posture, what you'ld have. I'le put
Your meaning into womans words; and such
As shall be sure to speed. But first I'le wait
Upon the Princess. Garrula, will you go?
Gar.
And thank you for my Son: But still—I know.
Thy.
Nay, I will do't Geron, be confident.
Ger.
I thank your Ladyship as much as they
Who Whilome —Whilome—
Dor.
Knew not what to say.
Gar.
He's overjoy'd.
Thy.
Go Geron, lead the way.
Exeunt. omnes.

ACT 3. SCENE 2.

King. Stratocles. Disanius. Justinius.
King.
Pray trouble me no further. I have said,
That if in five dayes space she make not choice
Of one of those whom (I must tell you Stratocles)
She loves, and I prefer before you, then
I'le weigh your suit, and reasons; and till then
I say't again, you are a trouble to me.
Str.
A trouble Sir? That were a time that knew me,
A trouble to your enemies, not you,
When this same lump of earth (which now's a trouble)
Stood a sole Bulwark of your Realm; repelling
Arms of foes; shrowding your fearful Subjects
Under my shield; guarding your fields and Vineyards
From desolation; your Palaces from ruine;
And am I now a trouble?
Dis.
Stratocles,
You lose the glory of your deeds by blazing
[Page 125] Your own renown. He that commends himself,
Speaks upon trust, and is his hearers slave.
Str.
Peace, envy, and be thankful for thy life
Which thy tongue forfeits.
Just.
Let my mildness tell you,
You are irreverent before the King,
Who has not been forgetful of your worth,
Nor slow in your reward. Then moderate
Your heat with counsel; and be first assistant
Unto the publick good: So shall you merit
The first regard in honours and affairs
Of private nature.
Sra.
So.
King.
This Oracle
Troubles me not a little. I had thought
Thereby to have declin'd this weighty care
From my declining shoulders, and have given
My countrey satisfaction, and my self,
In chusing of a son and successor.
But I am prisoner in the Labyrinth
Of the Gods verdict.
Just.
Their sublimity
In matters of the future seldom stoops
To humane apprehension; yet vouchsafes
To answer our demands: but chides withall
Our too much incenss with obscurity.
Your grace however may presume, where they
Shal deign to spend a word, and take an offering,
It is a certain augury of good.
King.
Thou hast allay'd my fear. Justinus come,
Lead me thy brains assistance. For in thee
I find a temper that accords with me.
Exit King Just.
Dis.
Souldler, I dare yet tell thee thou art rash;
Foolish as valliant; and as easily may'st
For all thy lostiness be undermin'd
As the base bramble: Boasting weakness, thee
[Page 126] And promising Ambition leads thee up
An earthly exhalation into th'air;
Where with a little borrow'd light, one moment,
Thou shin'st the mark and wonder of all eyes;
But soon consum'd and darted to the Center,
Becom'st the scorn of men and sport of Children.
Str.
You are oth sect of Cinicks, and have learn'd
To bark Philosophy.
Dis.
Then shall you hear
Your now adorning multitude upbraid
Your insolence and pride, and gain the name
Of Prophets by your downfall, while one swears
He had foretold it long; Another dreampt it;
All joyntly cry we never could indure him;
See what a look he has; what brawny lips;
What poysonous eyes; and what an impudent front!
Str.
You will out-run your priviledge of prating
And suffer for't.
Dis.
I am too prodigal
Of seed upon so flinty soyl as thou.
Be as thou art, and perish.
Exit.
Str.
Ignorant wretch,
That out of all thy bookish Theory
Knowes not the soul to be Aerial
And of a soaring nature; not unlike
The noble Falcon that will never cease
To work 'bove all that tops her. The supream
Estate on earth, and next unto the Gods
Is majesty; and that's my present gain,
Though I have all but that, yet wanting that
All is as none to me: And since my way
Must be upon the Ruins (sowre Disanius)
Of thee, and of thy glories in thy Nephews
The Kings dear darlings, for whose pretious sakes
I must attend five dayes (yet be a trouble)
[Page 127] I'le travail through your bloods: Thy self has gi'n me
The quicker motion by thy timely envy.
Thou hast set spurs to the pale horse of death,
That into dust shall trample all those lets
Which stand twixt me and the Thessalian Crown,
Enter Matho.
Upon whose back I'le set this Rider.
Mat.
My soveraign Lord.
Str.
I like that compellation:
Thou stil'st me as thou wishest me, on whom
Depends thy consequent advancement, Matho.
But we but dream of soveraignty and sleep
To the Atchievement: something must be done
With waekful eyes and ready hands my Matho.
Mat.
Now my King speaks himself. Let but your eye
Find out the way these ready hands shall act
The strength of your designs. I can perceive
That now the labour of your Jove-like brain
Is bringing forth the Pallas, shall inspire
Me, to perform the work of my advancement.
Str.
Tis not yet ripe for the delivery,
But thou shalt quickly have it. Follow me.
Exit.

ACT 3. SCENE 3.

Eudina. Thymele. Placilla.
Eud.
Good Madam, let me be excus'd. The mirth
You offer'd to allay or quench my sorrows
Might have been well receiv'd at former times:
But now it is unseasonable.
Thy.
Yet think on't, Madam,
How gravely Geron goes, and with what scorn
The wanton Girl recoyles.
Eud.
Good, speak no more on't.
Thy.
Then Beldame Garrula's reasons urging Doris▪
[Page 128] Shewing how either of his pupils grace
In your electing Philocles or Philargus,
Though to them doubtful, is a sure advancement
To her by Geron.
Eud.
Still you move like those
That do in merry tales mis-spend their breath
To those that are that day mark'd out for death.
Thy.
You may not say so (Madam) tis in you
By taking one, to give new life to two;
Your self, and if you'l give me leave to name
The other, be it Philargus: or, if chance
Shall favour better, Philocles or him,
Let it be him that gives you the first visit.
Eud.
That were to fancy in our selves an Oracle;
Or to give fortune power, to execute
The judgement of the Delphian God.
Thy
Who knowes
But that his Oracle would have it so.
Pla.
Was it for that you now sent for Philargus.
Aside
Thy.
Say, shall it be so Madam; or suppose so?
Eud.
This pleases better yet then Gerons wooing.
Praythee Placilla sing. And may thy voice
Attract him that may prove the happier choice.
Pla.
Ile try my best in notes, and what they want
Ile strive to make effectual in my wishes.
Eud.
Thanks kind Placilla.—But the leaden weights
Of sleep oppress mine eye-lids, and I shall not hear thee.
Thy.
Yet sit, and let her sing: you'l sleep the better.
Placilla Sings. After a strain or two, Eudina sleeps, and enters, as a vision at the several doors, Philargus and Philocles; They meet and embrace affectionately: then whisper a while: Then sudenly start off, and draw their swords: menace each other, and severally depart. The song ended, Eudina affrightedly starts up.
Eud.
[Page 129]
Stay Philocles, stay Philargus. Let not fury
Lead you to end that difference with your swords,
Which onely fits my life to satisfie.
Thy.
What means your Grace.
Eud.
Pursu'em, with prevention,
Before they meet again, or one or both
Must perish; did you not observe their challenge,
And eithers daring other to the field?
Thy.
Who Madam, where? and when?
Eud.
Now; here; your sons.
How can you ask?
Thy.
Because we were awake
And saw nothing.
Pla.
Collect your spirits Madam: you slept.
Eud.
It was an omenous dream then.
Thy.
And of good,
I dare divine it Madam. And now see
Enter Philargus.
Whom fortune first hath sent to be your choice.
Philargus, you have won the glorious prize.
Philar.
But dos the glory of the world, Eudina, grant it.
Eud.
My affrightment shakes me still—
O my Philargus, I am now inspir'd
Sure by a vision from the Gods, with knowledge,
That, in my choice of you, or Philocles,
I shall become the ruin of you both.
Philar.
Tis not in fate to wound our common friendship.
Eud.
Tis better in my self to kill the danger.
Philar.
The Gods avert such purposes. If you
Deprive the world of your fair self, then we
Both fall by necessary consequence.
But what are we? This Thessaly must suffer.
The King must yield, to see a new and strange
Successon appointed to his Crown;
And by his subjects, not himself.
Eud.
Tis that
[Page 130] Deters me: yet let me prevail Philargus
(To quit me of my fears) that ere I passe
My faith unto a husband, your and Philocles,
Before the Gods, your Mother, and my self,
Once more, do celebrate your vow of Friendship.
And let me be excus'd in this: for I
Must tell you, dear Philargus, that tho' now
My love be fixt on one of you (albeit
I name not which) I will not take him with
Least scruple of a fear of losing him
Again by th'others spight; nor leave that other
Lesse lov'd by me, then now he is, for ever;
And tho but one can be possess'd of me
One friendship, yet, must marry us all three.
Philar.
The Gods have spoke it in you; it is their
Divine injunction; Madam, I obey it,
And dare engage as much for Philocles.
Thy.
This is most fair: now, till you meet, tis fit
You fall on lighter purposes for your health.
Son, here was mirth to day; although the Princesse
Relish'd it not.
Philar.
I heard of Gerons love
To his fair Doris. We are now become
His Tutors, Madam, to be amorous.
Thy.
Placilla, come you hither. I observe
A change in you of late; and do suspect
The Reason. What! Do you blush at my suspition?
Nay then you mak' [...] my knowledge. You are in Love.
I'le yet come nearer you. I guesse with whom:
And at fit time I'le school you for' [...].
Eud.
Come Madam;
Now if you please wee'l take some ayr.
Philargus
Craves leave to seek his brother.
Philar.
Yes Madam.
Thy.
I wait o'your Grace. Nay, do not look displeas'd:
[Page 131] I tell you Girl, there is danger in it.
Exit Eud Thym.
Philar.
Stay Placilla.
What! has my Mother chid you. I'le not question
Her Reason, nor your fault; but pray thee sister
If Philocles approach to see the Princesse
Ere my return, tell him I stay at's lodging,
First, to confer with him.
Pla.
I will my brother.
Philar.
Introth thou weepst. Therefore to comfort you,
Because I know by some infallible signes,
You are more tender of his Love then mine.
He stands in equal competition yet
With me for fair Eudina. And if Fortune
Allots her me, I'le be as kind a brother
And stil the same to you as Philocles.
I pray thee dry thine eyes.
Ent. Matho disguised with a letter.
Mat.
If a disguis'd face and a counterfeit hand
Ever prevail'd, may these in this plot speed.
Philarg. reads
My Lord, I had this in charge to render to you.
Ex. Matho
Pla.
I am discover'd in my lawlesse love.
Remember, Cupid, whom thou makest thy Anvil;
A poor weak virgin. If thou art a God,
Be just and reasonable: It savours not
Of justice, to provoke incestuous flames,
Nor Reason to enforce an Ardency
Of things impossible. Let me not burn
With neighbouring fire, which, to enjoy, I must
Therefore dispair because it is so near.
Philar.
Ha! where's this fellow? is he gone?
Pla.
Yes, brother.
Philar.
Tis Philocles his hand! An eager challenge!
A challenge, and to me, his friend and Brother.
Now Oracle, where's your Riddle? Answer me,
Apollo's fiddle-stick. O ye Delphian Priests,
[Page 132] You hang religion up, like painted cloaths
Before unseemly walls, to cloak their filth
And palliate their wicked misteries.
Pla.
How do you brother?
Philar.
Sick in Philocles.
You'l hear more of his kindness to you shortly.
Exit.
Pla.
He suspects too, with much displeasure, my
Unreasonable Love to Philocles.
But why should we be Reasons followers
With loss of liberty? which of the Creatures
Allayes his heat toward any of his kind,
'Cause the same belly gave them being? They
Observe no difference of Sire, or Dam,
Brother, or Sister, being mature for love.
Ah, whither am I going? Bestial thoughts
Forth of my bosom; Leave me not my Soul,
Or my soules better part, my reason. Oh
It was returning but a flaming shaft
Enter Philocles.
Of love has set it's Mansion afire
And frights it back again.
Philoc. Placilla.
Sister.
Pla.
That name of Sister, like a violent cold
Upon an extream heat, feavers my blood
To death.
Philoc.
Me thinks you are sad and troubled sister.
Why thus alone? Or have you entertain'd
That troublesome companion, Love? Come tell me
I can advise you very learnedly:
For Cupids Scholars are more exquisite
In giving councel then in using it.
Pla.
How shall I answer him? I dare not look on.
Philoc.
Why are you sad.
Pla.
Out of conformity
Unto the present garb: I have assum'd
Onely a veil of sadness.
Philoc.
[Page 133]
Thou art onely happy,
Whose sorrow is but outward, as a stranger
Call'd to be present at a funeral
Clads himself like the rest, is serious,
And silent with a countenance dejected,
And Testudineous pace; but has not tears,
No groanings for a loss to him unknown:
The Obsequies performed uncloaths himself
Of griefe and weeds together. But my sister,
You are not pleas'd to talk upon this subject.
Where is the Princess?
Pla.
He'has given me now a Colour for my sadness.
The Princess is retir'd; She has been troubled
With a most fearful dream of a Duello
Betwixt you and Philargus to be fought.
Philoc.
With friendly Courtesies?
Pla.
Nay, with swords she said.
Philoc.
Ha, ha, ha.
Pla.
Philargus hath been with her, and to him
She told her fears, enjoyning him, that both
Of you should come, and jointly before her
Declare your constant friendship.
Philoc.
That's soon done.
Pla.
But trust me Sir, I fear Philargus took not
All as she meant it; for at his departing,
He look'd displeasedly; and, when I demanded
His healths condition, he said he was sick
In Philocles.
Philoc.
In Philocles his absence,
As I am in his. That was his meaning sister.
Pla.
Pardon my fear; which is, that hee's not friends w'ye.
Pheloc.
Away, your fear has made you idle.
Pla.
No.
It is my love, in that black horror clad,
Which will, before it leaves me, make me mad.
Exit.
Philoc.
[Page 134]
Ile seek him out.
Enter Matho disguis'd, a Letter.
Math.
My Lord, I was commanded
To convey these into your Lordships hands.
Philoc.
By whom were you imploy'd?
Math.
My Lord 'twas not
The man that mov'd me. For I know him not;
But the reward. I humbly take my leave.
Exit
Philoc.
My brother write. Ha! Are we at such distance?
Thou art no Prophetess, Placilla, art thou?
He Reads.
Brother Philocles, we are the laughing stock of the Nati­tion; and injurious both to the King, our Countrey, the divine Eudina, and our selves, by our childish love. The time is short, meet me, (I conjure you by our Friendship) within three hours, in the North vale of Tempe; where it shall be the Gods election to take one of us, and leave the other for Eudina. Expostulate not with your self, much less with me otherwise then by weapon, or never expect to see your Brother Philargus.
O Gods and men! where shall we go to find
Friendship and truth? Bee't so: For in th'event
We may be happy both: But with this ods;
One with Eudina, tother with the Gods.
Exit.
Explicit Actus Tertius.

ACT 4. SCENE 1.

Varillus. Tersulus.
Var.
We should love one another, brother Tersulus,
More inwardly, and be in friendship true
As our Lords are. Prithee let their example
Piece up all difference betwixt us.
Ter.
Piece up,
[Page 135] I know your meaning and your jear Varillus,
In your piece up.
Var.
Fie on thy jealousie. 'Cause thou art a Taylor,
How ere a Gentleman by place, thou think'st
I jear thy quality.
Ter.
You should not. For
Look back unto the worlds beginning; there
Youl' find a Taylor was before a Barber.
Var.
Nay if you go to rip up old Antiquity.
Ter.
Rippe! there he is again.
Var.
You may as well
Collect, that the first man (who you suggest
Was his own Taylor) was his own Barber first.
Ter.
As how?
Var.
Do you think he did not scratch his head
In casting how to fashion out his breeches?
And that's in part, you know, the Barbers office.
Ter.
The scraching of the head.
Var.
And still
In use 'mongst Taylors on themselves. But note
The foul corruptions brought in by Time;
Of old they did but rub invention up,
How to contrive their work: But now their heads
Wrists, fingers, all have got an itch by't, which
Nothing but stealing can allay; though that
Can never cure it.
Ter.
Lying and stealing went
Of old together: now they are shar'd it seems
Between the Barber and the Taylor.
Var.
Sharp.
Ter.
Your instruments are sharp as mine, Sir Barber,
And you can pick more out of your Lords ears
Then I take from his Garments with my sheers.
Var.
Agree good brother, or would we had Doris
To stickle twixt us.
[Page 136] There y'are afore me too.
Var.
But come, Lords followers are their Apes in most things,
Why should not we be as friendly Rivals, now
In Doris Love, as are our Lords in the
Princess Eudinas. We will take up a fashion.
Enter Doris
Dor.
Varillus, where's your Lord?
Var.
I know not Doris.
Dor.
Tersulus, where's yours?
Var.
I know not Doris.
Dor.
You Eccho one another. Y'are commanded
Both by the Princess and the Governess
To seek'em out.
Both.
Your love commands our stay.
Dor.
Coupled together? Go yet one of you.
You I can spare best.
Var.
Why him?
Dor.
You then.
Ter.
Why him?
Dor.
Do you conspire? I will return your care.
Ter.
Nay gentle Doris stay. For, tis in vain
To seek our Lords. They are both rod singly forth
To take the Air. Mine an hour since.
Var.
Mine even now. I came but since to call
My brother Tersulus.
Dor.
Your brother Tersulus?
Ter.
As deeply vow'd in friendship as our Lords are.
Var.
It is with us as tis with them: we both
Are brothers, friends; yet Rivals in your love.
Can you now, as the Princess is to them,
Be equally affected to us both?
Dor.
Do you stay me to abuse me.
Var.
Nay, dear Doris.
We love our Lords? and as you love the Princess,
Who loves them, love you us. You are Eudina,
I Philocles, and he Philargus is.
Dor.
[Page 137]
Are the men mad.
Ter.
Suppose so Gentle Doris.
Var.
The King commands you to make present choice
Of one of us, or else ambitious Stratocles
(That's Geron) must enjoy you. Now sweet Princess
Be speedy in your choice. The kingdoms good
Depends upon it. And in your Election,
O make Philargus blest: He best deserves you.
Ter.
Admired friend, and brother Philocles,
Your courtesie ore-comes me: I must sue,
Though my heart akes the while as much for you.
Dor.
This is fine sooling—
Good Barber Philocles, and Taylor Philargus,
You shall not need to trim up his Affection,
Nor you to stich up his with your forc'd courtesies.
I know, in this, each wooes but for himself,
And my Affection runs as even betwixt you,
As nothing but your sizors, or your sheares
Had parted.
Var.
See Stratocles, alias Geron.
Enter Geron.
Ger.
So Whilome did contend two warlike Princes
For a fair [...]and, till a powerful King
Subdu'd them both and it. Doris, take heed,
Be wary in your conversation
(As Whilom Tully warn'd his tender son)
With such Pl [...]beians, least their vulgar breeding
Corrupt your education.
Var.
Must she be
Your pupil learned Geron.
Ger.
And my self
Her onely study; such as Whilome was;
Ʋlysses to Penelope.
Var.
Take heed Doris
How you become his wife: For he will love you
So by the book, as he will never lie with you
[Page 138] Without an Authour for't.
Ger.
Sir, she shall be
More precious to me then Homers Iliads,
Whilome to Alexander, which he made
His mighty bed-fellow: But why stand I
To render this account? The Princesse sent you,
Doris, to call their Lords to walk with her,
And take the air of Tempe.
Ter.
They are gone to take the air already, sir.
Ger.
Come you with me then, Doris.
Dor.
And why with you
Antiquity? I have heard you all this while,
And though you boast you have an interest in me,
We are not yet one volume, both bound up
And clasp'd together.
Var.
She speaks in his Element.
Dor.
No, I am yet loose paper; and 'twere good
To keep me so; for when I'm bound I must
Obey, be search'd, examin'd and corrected.
Yet this I'le do, and now be serious,
If you will all obey my rule; and try
Your fortunes who shall have me.
Var. Ter.
We agree.
Ger.
Their merits bear no aequability
With mine.
Var.
A very Stratocles.
Dor.
You boast your worth, and stand on confidence
In powerful advocates: But what are all
Unto my Love, and (which is more) my will?
If you will hear my proposition, hear it.
Var. Ter.
We are agree'd. Pray hear't.
Ger.
Lets hear it then.
The Gods, in Love, Whilome have stoop'd with men.
Dor.
That you all love me, I believe; and am
Content that every one of you do think
[Page 139] Himself prime man in my Affection:
And one of you I'le take. But yet my choice
Must wait upon Eudina's. Therefore mark
If your Lord wins the Princesse, and becomes
The Kings immediate Heir, I will be yours;
If your Lord, yours.
Ger.
Therein the oddes is mine,
For they are both my Lords.
Dor.
Then if both have her, I'le be yours: not else.
Ger.
As Whilome said, None of the wisest Clerks,
When the Sky falls we shall have store
Dor.
Of Whilomes: Ha, ha, ha.
Var. Ter.
Ha, ha, ha.
Ger.
Your Mistresse, Lady, Princesse, and my Mother
Shall know your.
Dor.
Away, old Whilome.
All.
Ha, ha, ha.
Ger.
Your Lords too I'le acquaint.
Dor.
Away, old child,
Go tell it Mother, do.
If you had spent, in the Phylosophers school
Your time no better, then in Cupids Lectures,
What a strange dunce you had been. Tell her, Love shows
In you, as Whilome—she knows what she knows.
Ger.
Your Love I will forget; your scorn remember
In black revenge, and so—
Dor.
Farewel December.
Var.
Hee'l to his Mother now. But tell me, Doris,
What means that Beldame in she knows, she knows:
She's often up with't to the Governesse.
Dor.
It has relation to some uncouth passage
Betwixt them, in my Ladies youth I guesse,
Var.
Tis some smock-secret I believe. But Gentlemen,
You know how I have laid my self out to you.
Ter.
That, as the Princesse shall bestow her self
On eithers Lord; you will embrace his man.
Dor.
Right.
Var.
And to that you'l hold?
Dor.
Yes
This for a Creed, That heaven must make its choice and hold you
[Page 140] Of one of them, before she take the other.
You understand me; and now cease your strife:
When th'ones Lord's dead, I'le be the others wife.
So farewel Gentlemen. I have staid too long.
Var.
She has given us both a hint now, would we take it.
Dor.
You did not hear me say, Kill you his Lord,
Nor you kill his.
Exit.
Var.
But she has laid a ground
To end a strife, that I should nere ha 'found.
Ter.
Varillus, come, our Lords may be return'd:
And we be shent for loytering.
Var.
I must think on't.
Exit.

ACT 4. SCENE 2.

Matho in his disguise.
Mat.
Now for my Combitants. Th'appointed ground
Is here; the time draws on; and the event
Foreseen in my imaginary light
Of every passe projected in their fight.
In the first passage, each shall wound the other;
Then shall they give, lend, pay, change wound for wound,
Till both of them lie fainting on the ground.
Holding between their teeth their doubtful lives:
When I, to end the question, friendly come in,
And with an equal hand dispatcht'em both.
Ent. Philarg.
And so into my ambush. One approaches.
Exit.
Philar.
This is the place. What is't that urges me
So promptly to deed, which being acted,
Will be th'astonishment of Heaven and earth?
Applauded no where but in Hell. Fair Tempe,
Let it not be deriv'd to after Ages,
By any uncouth mark upon thy face,
Let not thy grassy locks, that shall receive
[Page 141] The drops of blood, wither and die, condemning
The place that bore them to continual baldness;
Let not the impress of our labouring feet
Hold it's proportion; nor that part of earth,
Whereon the slain shall measure out his length,
Reserve the stamp, and make it monumental,
By a perpetual spring of more procere
And bigger bladed grass: And, when my soul
Hath found an Exit (which my purpose is
My Brothers sword shall open) let the valley
(When hee's departed) sink and undermine
The bordering hills that they may cover me.
Ent. Philoe.
Philoc.
He hath prevented me in hast: In death
I shall prevent his happily expected
Labour and toy'l, who for no other end
Am here arriv'd but to be sacrific'd
For expiation of his discontent.
Philar.
Let all the eyes of heaven be hooded, onely
One star to guid his point unto my heart,
Which instantly shall fall, and be extinct
In my distilled blood; that so the Gods
May not behold him. May some magick spell
Instruct his arm and weapon how to slay
My name and memory, that of me, there be not
Any desire; on him no Imputation.
Philoc.
My cure is onely how my breast may swallow
His point, without revealing mine intent.
Philar.
I so't shall be: a violent assay
For provocation; and then spit my self
Upon his steel.
They espie one another draw, and pass at each other, instantly both spread their arms to receive the wound.
Philoc.
Philargus. What! so quick,
Philar.
What's meant by this?
Philoc.
That should be my demand
Philar.
Are you so changeable?
Philoc.
Not I Philargus.
Philar.
[Page 142]
This was my resolution;
Will you stain
The reputation rais'd of your high valour.
Philoc.
I came to make experiment of none
But what consists in suffring.
Philar.
That's my part.
Philoc.
My self
If you deny me that last friendly office.
Phila.
Brother you dally with me. Therefore I conjure you
By faire Eudina let your anger loose;
Break up this cask of blood, and give the earth
A draught unto her health.
Philoc.
By the same Beauty
(Then which no greater subject of an oath)
I swear to be your nuptialls sacrifice,
Be you the Priest. I'le suffer without noise
In my displayed bowels you shall read
An augury of bliss unto you both.
Philar.
This is hard measure, Philocles, to mock
Ere you destroy.
Philoc.
I'le mock no more. Adieu.
He offers to kill himself, Philargus clos­es with him.
Philar.
Hold, hold, and be not prodigal of that blood,
More precious then Pactolus golden streams.
They strugle, and both fall down, still stri­ving to hold each others sword. &c.
Philoc.
Was then your challenge but totry me onely?
Philar.
Yours was, it seems; but none went out from me.
Philoc.
Then are we both ensnar'd by treachery.
Enter Matho.
Math.
This I foresaw 'twould come to. 'Save ye lord­ings.
And whither travail ye? Do you not want a guide
To help ye on your way?
Matho draws they start up and disarm him.
Philar.
This is the villane
That summon'd me.
Philoc.
And me. Villane, what art thou?
Math.
[Page 143]
Unhappily gues'd. I pray inquire no further.
Philar.
What monster art thou?
Philoc.
Unworthy on thy face to bear mans ensign.
Who has subborn'd thee? See tis Stratocles man.
He un­beards him.
Philar.
Die villane, die. And were thy ma­ster in thee,
The thirst of whose ambition sought our bloods;
His flesh with thine should here become a prey
Unto the Ravens.
Math.
O, be pitiful
And spare my life, my Lords, and I'le reveal
Matters of weight and wonder; which, conceal'd,
Will yet cost both your lives, and make the Princess,
If she not answer my Lords fierce desires,
Subject to rape and murder.
Philoc.
How can she
So fall into his power.
Philar.
We shall abuse
The trust the Gods have put into our hands
If we neglect to execute justice on thee.
Math
Let me but warn ye of Eudina's danger,
Whereby her virgin Innocence may not suffer,
And then inflict your furies on me.
Philoc.
That charms our ready hands and steel. Speak quickly.
Math.
This very hour she's to be surpriz'd
By my Lord Stratocles, here, on Tempe plains,
Where she is come to walk, slenderly guarded
To take the air. He with a strength will seise her
And hurry her hence unto his Mansion house,
To yield to his desire, or death, if suddenly
Prevention be not made.
Philar.
Tis worth our care.
Math.
Preserve me from his vengeance, and I'le bring you
Unto his enterprize.
Philoc.
We must not trust him,
[Page 144] He may have laid an Ambuscado for us.
Enter 6 Rust. with Weapons
Philar
See brother, stand upon our guard.
Math.
Help, help, aid me good people, help.
Philoc.
What means the villan now.
1. Rus.
What's the complaint?
2. Rus.
What is your grievance, speak?
Math.
I am a servant to Lord Stratocles
Who has preserv'd your Countey and your lives.
1. Rus.
We are the more beholding to him; on.
2. Rus.
'Twas more his gentlenes then our deserving; on.
Math.
These two are his malignant enemies;
And finding that my Lord is in these parts
Together with the Princess, fair Eudina
(Who has made him her choice) they lie in wait
To murder him, as they had me, had not
The Gods sent you to rescue me.
1. Rus.
'Twas more their Gentleness, then your de­serving, on.
Math.
I have no more to say, but that you take'em
On your allegiance to safe custody,
And let me pass.
1. Rus.
Un'ch, That would be more
Our gentleness then your deserving too. on, on.
Philar.
Dear friends—
1. Rus.
Good, interrupt us not we'll hear ye in order.
On you, Sir, ere you go; and come not back
For any thing unspoke you left behind.
Math.
I thank you, Sir, I had like to ha'lest my sword deserving,
Behind, which they disarm'd me of.
1. Rus.
That was their Gentleness more then your
(They having three swords, and you none to guard you)
They kill'd you not indeed, yet on again.
W [...]t further do you charge'em with.
Math.
No more, nor you, less you detain me longer.
1. Rus.
Now you grow bold, and saucy I must tell you.
2. Rus.
Now y'are a knave, a villane and a Traytor,
Lest you no more behind you but a sword?
[Page 145] I saw a scabberd on your face of late,
A false one: Seek it out.
3. Rus.
O here it is.
Takes up the false beard.
1. Rus.
Put it him on again. On with it, on.
Resist and we will hang thee. Now my Lords,
My Princess I may say: For one of you
Must be our King. We know you though you know
Not us; you may perhaps hereafter know us
More by your Gentleness then our deserving.
Phil. Phil.
O worthy Countrey men.
1. Rus.
We are the heads of Tempe; and the chief
Swain heads of Thessaly (the King has known us)
And here we came to lay our heads together
For good of common wealth. Here at the verge
Of this adjoyning Thicket is our Bower
Of consultation; and from thence (regardful
Ever with eye and ear for common good)
We saw a beard pull'd off; and heard that mouth,
(Which now is dumb) open a plot, unlike
The pittiful compl [...]int he made to us.
Philar.
But saw you not some passages before?
Of his attempt upon our lives?
1. Rus.
Good Gods.
2. Rus.
No we came in but then. Those are enough
To hang the man, and turn his Lord out of
Our Countrey favour: If we find he has
That plot upon the body of the Princess
Of Rape and Murder. He can be no King
For us: for, sirrah, we have wives and daughters.
En. Stra. Eud. Soul.
1. Rus.
Stand close. See who comes here.
Stra.
So, now go back my friends. There's some reward.
Sol.
Thanks to the noble bounteous Stratocles.
gives a pur's
Srat.
Lady your tears are bootless.
Exit Souldiers
Eud.
Help ye Gods.
Str.
Your cries as unavailable. The Gods
(To whom your friendly foolish lovers
Have sacrific'd each other) have given you up
[Page 146] To me the onely worthy of you.
Eud.
No they are both sublim'd into one star,
Yet of a double influence, that shall
Strike death into thy purposes, and give
Me light by which t'ascend with them to live
After my present death.
She offers to kill her self with a knife, he holds her.
Str.
Your hast to death shall not prevent my lust.
Philoc.
She must outlive thy Lust and the false Traytor
Rus.
Hold, hold, disarm, but kill him not.
2. Rus.
Wee'll keep him tame.
Str.
You have ods o'me.
Eud.
I am in heaven already.
Philar.
Live wonder of the heavens, a star on earth
Out shining theirs.
Eud.
What a short journey 'tis
For heavenly minds to reach unto the Gods!
Str.
B [...]tray'd!
1. Rus.
No not betray'd. Y'are but well meet my Lord,
But that's our Gentlen ess more then your deserving.
Str.
Am I become the shame and scorn of pesants.
1. Rus.
Or if you'l ha't betray'd, then blame your own
Overmuch policy and want of Beasts
To carry it to Market. We nere lay
More burthen on a Asse, then he can bear
Here in the countrey: what is done at court
We know not. Here perhaps is one can tell,
Know you this bearded Satyre?
Pull off Ma­thos beard.
Str.
Coward, slave,
Thy faintness hath betray'd me.
Math.
No, 'twas ods,
Such as men meet that sight against the Gods.
1. Rus.
The fellow has some Grace; he weeps: But come
Princess and Princes, what is now your pleasure
We do unto these men?
Eud.
For me, I have learn'd
[Page 147] By mine own sufferings in my afflictions
To be compassionate. I wish their pardon.
Str.
That mercy wounds me deeper with remorse
Then all my lost designs, and their derision
Have done with indignation.
1. Rus.
There is some hope these yet may prove new men.
Eud.
Lord Stratocles,
Those wounds that pierce the heart with true contrition
Do bring the precious balm in'em that cures it.
Philar.
We wish yours may be such.
Philoc.
And that this shame
May guard you innocent of future blame.
2. Rus.
Here's sweetness upon sweetness.
1. Rus.
Now it remains, that we advise our selves,
Brethren of Tempe, that since these delinquents
Are fallen into our hands, that we discharge
Our Countrey loyalty with discretion,
And not release him from our power, but by
The power above us. (that's the kings) wee'l wait
On you to court. On you for your new loves,
And you for old acquaintance.
Eud.
I'le acquaint my father with your care,
He shall be witness of our bringing in
The ambitious Politick trapt in his own gin.

ACT 4. SCENE 3.

King. Disanius. Justinius.
King.
Bereft of all my joyes and hopes at once!
Is there no com [...]ort, nor no counsel left me?
Why stand you gazing thus with sealed lips?
Where is your counsell now, which you are wont
In trifling matters to pour out in plenty?
Now, in the peril of my life and state
I cannot get a word. Give me my daughter,
[Page 148] Or take my Kingdom too. Where is she? Tell me.
Dis.
All we can say or hear is, she was taken
Out of her private walks by violent hands,
Onely we guesse the master of the plot
Was Stratocles, who now is missing in the Court.
King
He ask'd my leave to leave the Court, and had it.
Dis.
Twas a fit glosse for his fowl treachery.
King
But what ha' you said for her recovery.
Just.
We have dispatch't a hundred several posts
To every coast and angle of your Kingdom:
No way of finding her is left unsought.
Dis.
Could we finde Stratocles, she might be found.
King
Stil upon him? Where's Philocles? where's Philargus?
They are missing too.
Dis▪
Hell has not in't a thought
That can detract their honours.
Jus.
Yet a Rumor
Is spread about the Court; they are gone to fight.
Dis.
'Gainst whom?
Jus.
Against themselves. Nay more, that they
Have fought, and both are slain.
Dis.
You may as soon
Believe the Artick and Antartick poles
Can meet it opposition, amidst
The firmament, and jointly in a fall
Extinguish both their lights in Neptunes bosom.
King
Whence springs this Rumor.
Dis.
Stratocles is the head
We may be confident; and his men the pipes
That have dispers't it.
Kin.
Stil you judge Stratocles.
Ent. Thym. weeps.
What purpose can he have in't.
Dis.
O my sister
Has heard the news too. Weep not tender sister,
Your sons are safe.
Thy.
Yes they are with the Gods.
King.
And, had they tane Eudina with them too,
My doubts and fears were over, well as yours.
Ent. Garr. weeping
Dis.
Here's one that makes a face, an ugly one,
And would weep too, had she but moisture in her.
How now! Whose Mare's dead, Garrula? Take thy bottle
And turn that into tears. Or dost thou wring
[Page 149] Thy face because that's dry? Gi'mee't, I'le fill it.
Gar.
My son, oh, oh my son is at deaths door.
Dis.
And is death so unkind to keep it shut
Against him? Out upon him churle.
Gar.
My liege
And Madam (it shall out) you might have sav'd
My sons life in your servants love, whose scorn
Will be his death, except the King divert it,
And I shall tell him what you know I know—
Thy.
O me undone.
Gar.
And open such a secret
Unto his majesty—
King.
Yet forbear me now.
Gar.
Do you slight me in the care of my sons life?
Do you scorn my secret too, that may be worth
More then your kingdom to you?
Dis.
Away old fool.
Gar.
Now you shall never know't.
Dis.
For thy good wil
The king would thank thee, in offering at some mirth
To cool his grief, but that it is too hot
Yet to be touch'd.
Jus.
Indeed you do not well
To move the King, or to perplex the Lady
Now in their sorrows fulness.
Gar.
What's their sorrow
To mine? My sons a dying.
Jus.
Her sons are dead,
And the Kings daughter lost.
Gar.
But I pray, say,
Is my Lord Philocles and Philargus dead?
Jus.
'Tis said so.
Gar.
Then I say my son shall live.
Dis.
And so wilt thou while thou canst lift thy bottle
To that old Mazer.
Gar.
Hem! A hem! a ha!
Dis.
Do you rejoyce, and shew the rotten half tooth
You have left that they are dead.
Gar.
No I rejoyce
That the advancement that the giglet gap'd for
In one of their fine followers is lost,
In hope of which she scorn'd my son. But now
He shall scorn her and live.
Dis.
Out envious trot
Gar.
Ile comfort him with the newes.
Dis.
away you Hag,
Exit Gar.
Here comes one merry look.
Eup.
Joy to the king.
Enter Eupathus. Eupa.
Dis.
Well said, speak up and home good
Eup.
[Page 150]
Your daughter's safe return'd so is your son, Madam,
For which you are to thank the Gods: This is
Their true relation.
He gives the King a paper.
Dis.
Where is Stratocles?
Eup.
Caught in the snares of his foul treachery.
Dis.
Bravely and honestly spoken Eupathus.
He reads to Thym. aside.
Eup.
And by their hands whose voices he had once
For his election.
Dis.
What his country heads?
Eup.
They all turn head upon him now.
Dis.
Brave heads
Observe my judgement now, my king: Those heads
I will so souse in our best Greekish Wines,
That they shall be such heads! O heads, heads, heads!
King.
I do approve your judgment good Disanius,
But wish you not insult ore mans dejection.
We find that Stracocles is much Penetent
And troubled at his trespass.
Dis.
A halter still him
For an ambitious hypocritical Traytor.
King.
The time for my Eudina's match draws near,
And I no longer will attend on fortune,
I have decreed it past recal, regardless
Whether against the oracle, or with it.
Thy.
Yet am I consident in your assertion
You priests of Delphos.
Dis.
Hee'l bestow her yet
On Stratocles, if she stand longer doubtful
In a fair choise.
Eup.
Fear not my Lord. That doubt
Your Countrey heads will clear. He has lost them
For ever.
Dis.
O brave heads! I will so ring
Their ears with jewels of praises and preferment
That they shall glare like direful comets at him.
King.
One she shall chuse of them: If not, I'le put
A third upon her.
Thy.
With your pardon Sir,
Why are you (for I find it is so) stronger
For Philocles?
King.
No reason urges me;
And yet I find an inclination in me
That pleads for him. I can perceive you too,
Are partial towards Philargus. Can you yield
[Page 151] A reason for't?
Thy.
Yes, Sir, he is my eldest.
King.
Alas, But not an hour. Well, I'le remit
My power propounding, and accept
Her choice of either, made within the time.
Thy.
I, there my hopes do anchor; else they were
Certain of Ship-wrack: yet the perillous waves
My vessel rides on seems so many graves.
Explicit Actus Quartus.

ACT 5. SCENE 1.

Philocles. Philargus.
Philoc.
Brother, and friend, I'm deaf to all deswasion.
I charge you by Eudina's love, our friendship,
And (if there be) ought that you hold more sacred,
Move not to alter my fix'd resolution.
Philar.
That resolution's mine; And I conjure you
By the self-same respects, and all that are
Or may be hollowed, to let me depart.
I will remove but for some few daies journey
Whence you shall duly hear from me. But rather
I'le travail to th' Antipodes, then here
Linger the vain impediment of your joyes
In your Eudina.
Philoc.
Travel's my design.
Eudina must be yours. She is a bliss
Which heaven created for you.
Philar.
Can a bliss
Be purchas'd with your absence? No: 'Twil torture
Equally in fruition as in want.
Were it a Kingdom onely, we could part it
Without the quarrel of the Thebean brothers;
Or, were it heaven it self, Castor and Pollux
Should have our imitation. But Eudina
Is onely indivisible.
Philoc.
[Page 152]
Add to it this,
Their sentence is erroneous, that deny
Partition to the soul: For ours do witness,
Friendship can give her a division,
And make reciprocal community
Of all her faculties. But still Eudyna
Is indivisible. Why name I her,
Whom to forget must be my onely tasque?
Brother adieu.
Philar.
'Tis I that must take leave.
Enter Disan.
Dis.
Is it even so?
Philoc.
I fear we are prevented.
Dis.
Nephews, why left you so the presence? I
May justly fear you were ill advis'd in it.
The King expects your quick return, and will not
Let pass this peremptory day, set down
For matching of his daughter; to preserve
Life, State, or Kingdom. Have you a purpose,
First having beg'd that villain Stratocles pardon,
To give him up your interest in the Princess?
The Kingdom too, to boot? will you compel
The King to give him all?
Philar.
Not so good Uncle.
Dis.
What do you less in flying from the presence,
When that affair is now in agitation?
Philoc.
Uncle, you saw withal the great destraction
We left the Princess in. How when she look'd
Upon Philargus, she inclin'd to him;
And when on me to me; when on us both
How extasied she fell!
Philar.
A strong necessity
There is that one of us absent.
Dis.
Therefore
You both flie off to travel several wayes!
Come, let me tell you your courtesie is foolish,
And you unworthy to have such a fortune
Hang like a pregnant cloud over your heads
Ready to be dissolv'd in showres upon you,
While your own madness conjures up a wind
[Page 153] To blow't away.
Philar.
Uncle, you are unjust,
I would remove to let that golden showre
Light upon Philocles.
Philoc.
I upon Philargus.
Dis.
I could even swadle'em both for a brace of Babyes.
Your folly makes me mad: will you return
Yet to the presence, both of you?
Philoc.
Uncle, you know
To be both there, is neither to be there,
But to breed more perplexity in Eudyna.
Pray take Philargus.
Dis.
Nephew, come, be wise:
It is a crown that Courts you; and the name
Of friend, or Brother ought to stand aloof,
And know a distance, where such dignity
Is tendred. Take your opportunity,
I find you coming, come.
Philarg.
I pray take Philocles.
Dis.
I'le take him for the wiser man then. Nephew,
Come, and embrace your fortune, and forget not
To thank the Gods your Brother has no more wit.
A Kingdom and a beauteous bed▪fellow
(There Nephew, there!) Do not those bare a sound
'Bove friend and Brother, ha?
Philoc.
not in mine ears.
Dis.
What frost has ceiz'd their blood, & brains, which neither
Beauty nor dignity can thaw? Go travel.
What stay you for? young Gentlemen sometimes
Wait for a gale of gold to blow'em out
O'th'harbour; Stratocles will furnish you,
And thank you more then for his forfeit life.
Philoc.
Stratocles can gain nothing by my abscence,
While her Philargus stayes.
Philarg.
No, nor by mine,
While Philocles remains.
Dis
Shall I make a motion,
Will one of you remain?
Both.
One must and shall.
Dis.
Then yield to take your lots for't. (I will make'em)
As you respect my love; your mothers life;
The kingdoms good; Eudynas love and life,
Let it be so. Pause not upon't, but do't.
[Page 154] See, here's ink and paper. I am inspir'd,
Apollo, with thy wisdom. Love.—and friendship.
See, here's a pass for one, and a plantation
He writes two lots.
For tother. Love and friendship Gentlemen.
Love shall abide at home, and friendship walk,
According to the custom of the world.
Let it be so. ▪Come study not, but draw,
I'le draw upon ye both else.
They drew the lots.
Philar.
Friendship for me then.
Philoc.
See here I have it brother. And yours is love.
My love be prosperous to you. My horse, my horse.
Enter Varillus
Var.
All's ready, Sir.
Philoc.
In the first place then bring
A parting cup, that by the grapes Elizar
As Jove by Acheron, I may protest
My constancy and zeal unto my purpose.
Var.
And now's my time to act thy purpose, Doris.
Exit.
Dis.
Kick not your heels against the Gods, Philargus,
It is most evidently their decree
That you abide and Philocles remove.
Philoc.
I do obey my Lot. And noblest brother.
Be you as free in love, as I from envy.
Philar.
But how can you forgo that equal interest
You have with me in Thessaly, and Eudina?
Diss.
Why should that trouble you? you see he does
Forgo't; and is a going. Would he were gone once.
Philar.
Can love allow't?
Philoc.
Variety of objects
Like Nails abandon one a nother. So
May I, by novelties of Travail, lose
The thought of Love; and chearfully return
Both hers and yours in a more just relation.
Enter Varil­lus with a bowl of wine.
Give me the bowl. Now brother to that love
You owe the fair Eudina, unto which
I give th'addition of mine own, and all
[Page 155] The joves that ere I wish'd my self and her,
And to that friendship, which nor Time, nor absence
Shall ever end or alter.
He drinks and gives Varillus the bowl.
Var.
Now the service that may redeem my faults
Is to be done.
Philar.
Give it me full, Varillus.
Var.
I'le give you more then you expect by this.
He puts in a pou­der.
Philar.
You have the victory in friendship, brother,
Who, by your resolute absence will inforce
And drive me to a happiness; wherein
I must not cease, in all the strength of prayers
Of sacrifice, and vowes; in all my goods
Of fortune, mind and body to be yours:
Which that you may return to repossess
With the more speed, this health to auspicate
And expedite your travails.
Var.
They are done
Already if my Pothecaries skill fail not.
Philoc.
With this embrace my brother, and my last
Of present ceremony, I now wish you
In th'arms of your Eudina—
And may my better part of soul, which now
I leave in trust with you, by you be breath'd
Into her breast; that she may lively find
She has my love in yours; and that in you
She has us both.
Dis.
So, so, enough. Ha'ye done yet?
Philoc.
How is it with you brother?
Philarg.
As it is
With souls that leave the world in peace.
Dis.
For shame
Leave womanish ceremony. Will you part
Before it be too late?
Philoc.
Too soon I fear.
Philargus! Brother! Friend! Ye Gods, how comes this?
Dis.
What is he dead? I see then how it comes.
You or your man, or both ha'poyson'd him.
Philar.
No, 'twas my self.
Dis.
Thou wilt not go out o'th'world
With a lie i'thy mouth? Speak yet again,
Var.
[Page 156]
He has said well for me already,
Philoc.
Gone, past recovery, but he shall not pass
Without my company.
Dis.
Wilt thou die mad too?
He offers to kill himself. Dis. snatch­eth his sword away.
Come, Sir, let go your whiblin. He has yet
Some breath. Run for Physitians—No, Sir, stay.
I will not quit you so. I can read guilty lines
Palpably on this villans visnomy.
Is there no more i'th'house? some help here! ho!
Nephew forbear. As you will have me think
Philocles of­fers again to kill him­self.
You guiltless of your brothers blood, forbear.
How am I tortur'd! Ho! Philargus; rub him,
Rub him, he may live yet.
Philoc.
O that the world
Might be so happy!
Dis.
So, well said: A box
Or two in kindness will not do amiss.
Stir not you sirrah. O, Sir, you lay hold
Enter Tersulus.
On that same traytor.
Var.
I'le not stir my Lord.
Dis.
I'le hold you to your word, Sir, run, Sir, you
And fetch Physitians.
Ter.
O my Lord, fallen dead!
Dis.
Stay but to look upon him, and I'le swear
Thou art his murderer. Fetch the Kings Physitians,
Exit Tersulus
If not to cure him; yet to rip the cause
Out of his sodain death. I guess they'l finde
Your handy-work in's maw.
Var.
You heard him say
It was himself that did it. I am clear'd.
Enter Eupathus.
Eup.
My Lord, the King, impatient of your stay,
Has sent [...].
Dis.
What has he sent. Has he sent means
To call this man from death, or that from falling
After him into th'grave?
Eup.
O heavy spectacle!
Dis.
But, come I will not cry tho'. Pray assist me,
In with this body, Charity commands
[Page 157] When griev'd necessity intreats your hands.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT 5. SCENE 2.

Geron. The four Rusticks.
Ger.
My Rustici amici, your Councel and
Your vertue have restor'd me. And tis true
As Wholom said the good Antisthenes
Vertue is armour 'gainst the very fates.
1. Rus.
We told you for your good, good Mr. Geron,
Fond love became you not.
2. Rus.
It sat upon your coat like burs or bryars
Stuck in the hindlocks of our fleecy sheep;
Who shake their heads; figgle, and writh their tayls,
And bleat for woe; sprinkle the ground behind'em
Sometimes I wisse: Twould make one laugh and pitty'em
And all at once, but all remediless.
Til we with helping wit and hands release'em
Gar.
A wise man then in love is like a sheep
l'th' bryars. As Whilome said
3. Rus.
But (by the way)
What was that Whilome, Sir, you speak much of him,
But what was he pray.
Ger.
An ancient Britain, whom I have affected
As idly as my love. But I'le forget it
And use that word no more. The clowns have found me.
4. Rus.
But will you now proceed upon your plot
For th'honour of Tempe plains, and Tempe swains.
Ger.
You can all dance.
2. Rus.
After our countrey guise.
3. Rus.
Like so many light horses.
1. Rus.
So can our wives
Who have follow'd us up to Court we thank'em
[Page 158] Pray Juno we get them honestly home again.
Ger.
There is no doubt. However fear you nothing
As why—Tis hard to leave off an old custom.
2. Rus.
The why was out, but lome stuck in your teeth.
Ger.
Tis well it did so. You can dance you say.
A dance I have projected for the Princess
Who ever marries her it shall serve. As why—
1. Rus.
Again 'twas eene a comming.
Ger.
You are as quick as why—
2. Rus.
And there again.
1. Rus.
Nay we are heads, I tell you Master Geron,
And should have wit; and shew't we can i' th'countrey,
In the head vein, though hear at Court, like courtiers
We'll shew it in our heels. Pray therefore on.
Ger.
On, let us then to practise. King and court
Shall see, to crown their joyes, some countrey sport.
Exeunt omnes.

ACT 5. SCENE 3.

King. Justinus. Eudina. Thymele. Attendants.
King.
No answer, no return? Must I intreat,
Yet have my undeserved favours slighted?
Thy.
Yet, Sir, your Kingly patience.
King.
Stupid folly
'Twere longer to attend. My vow is past
And register'd in heaven; the minute is
Athand, that calls down thonder on me, which
No tear, or prayers can mollifie or aver' [...],
If I upon so long deliheration
Shall falsifie. So, call in Stratocles.
Exit. Attendants.
Eud.
O my dread father. Yet one hours patience
Till Eupathus or Disanius return.
One short, short hour: I may not live so long.
His wife you nam'd; though you may force me take him.
King
[Page 159]
I'le leave that to the Gods.
Eud.
They will forgive. Give them your imitation
In mercy, as in power on earth. I know Disanius
Went not in vain to call'em to your presence.
And him that he brings first into this room
O Philocles or Philargus I will take,
Though he precede the other but one foot,
I have it by inspiration from the Gods.
King
You are full of dreams.
Thym.
This cannot, Sir, be long
In tryal. King Yet I am not bound to wait
On those ingrateful men. O Stratocles,
Enter Strato.
You have from your late Errors, which your then
Head-strong ambition hurried and cast you in
With that humility purg'd your self, that I
Conceive you now a temperate Man; and am
Instructed by the clemency of the Gods
To cherish and reward your vertue. Therefore
From their divine appointment, as my hands—
Eud.
(O mighty, Sir—
King
Dare not to disobey me)
Receive Eudina.
Str.
Royal King and Master,
Mistake not so the pleasure of the Gods.
My forfeit life you have forgiven me:
Your Kingly power and grace might do it. You
Have given it freely: but I took't with caution,
By future service to make good your gift:
But for my forfeit love to fair Eudina,
And my lost honor to the twin-born brothers,
There can be no redemption, if I add
By acceptation of your bounteous offer
A second trespass, greater then the former.
King
Do you refuse her then.
Str.
In hope shee'l plead
My pardon to your grace.
Eud.
The Gods have wrought
Effectually for me.
King
Strangely, unexpected
Are you become a suppliant Placilla?
Pla.
[Page 160]
In the behalf, Sir, of your loyal subjects,
Ent. Pla. with a pe­tition.
The Swains of Tempe.
King.
I expected, rather,
News from your unkind brothers. See Justinius,
The Commons, rather then I shall bestow
kneels.
My daughter upon Stratocles, do beseech me
To take a further time.
Just.
Y'are happy, Sir,
In his refusal and in their request.
They are fair predictions of ensuing joyes
To you, your daughter, and the Kingdom, If
I may be worthy to divine so much.
King
How ere thy divination proves, thy wish
Is worth our thanks. And we may have
Enter Eupathus
Glad tidings presently. Now Eupathus
Where is Disanius, Philocles, and Philargus?
Why come they not?
Eup.
They are all at hand my liege.
This paper may excuse their stay.
King
O do
The K [...]reads the paper.
They plead excuse then?
Thym.
I am full of fears.
Eud.
And I of sodain joy.
Plac.
Pray all be well.
The King has struck his breast, and seems perplext.
King
Justinius, Stratocles, read here this Paper.
Go Eupathus, and let them enter. Stay.
Yet go, bring them in their prescribed manner.
I'le send the woman off, whose sodain grief
May be a bar to our proceedings. Madam—
Thy.
I fear that Garrula has detected me.
King
I must intreat a while your absence, Lady.
Thy.
May I presume to ask your reason, Sir.
King
My will has been above your question. Pray,
Let me request you go.
Thy.
I know obedience.
King
And go Placilla, send old Garrula to me.
Thy.
Now tis most evident. O mighty, Sir,
Conceive not worse of me then Garrula.
Let us appear together.
King
What means this?
Thy.
You may be pleas'd to hear me first.
King
Pray pull not
More weight upon your breast then you can bear,
[Page 161] By your impertinent stay. Go I command you.
Thy.
I must obey. However tis too late
To change the resolution of my fate.
Exit. Thym. Pla.
King
I have not known her thus. I fear destraction
Fore-runs the voice of grief, as to prevent it.
Heaven knowes I call'd for Garrula, but to send her
With best directions to prepare and arm
Her tender soul against the sting of sorrow
Before it should approach her. But Eudina
You must be valliant; and not let the sight
Of death in others shake your confidence.
Eud.
How means your majesty?
King
Suppose that both
Your fatal lovers, Philocles and Philargus
Slept in the caves of death.
Eud.
I should not live then;
King
Suppose his desteny had cut off one,
And, in him, all the impediments, that crost
You in th' enjoying of the other, say
Which could you wish surviver? But you have
Declar'd your constant purpose to possess
The first Disanius brings into this presence.
Come; one is dead. There is a strict necessity
You know it. Now collect your Reason: For 'tis not
Your passion for the dead; nor your dislike
Of Stratocles; no though my subjects yeeld you
A longer time, shall make me tempt the Gods
Recorders. Ent. Disanius be­fore a herse. Phi­locles after. Varil­lus manacled and led by Tersu [...]us. Euputhus supports Philocles, as ready to sink with grief.
By breaking of my vow. Be stedfast then,
As you respect a father; and take courage.
See Philocles lives.
Eud
Philargus then
Is brought in dead be [...]ore him by Disanius;
And unto him the first to be brought in
My faith was vow'd; and he is now my choice.
King
What being dead? Could you affect'em so
Equally, both alive, that you forbore
To chuse, because you could not have'em both;
[Page 162] And now seek onely him cannot be had?
The herse set down. Eudinae kneels to it. Philo. kneels
What Love, what madness call you this? good Gods,
Throw not your wrath upon me in destruction on the other
Just.
Nor let your passion Master you great, sir, side,
As sodain grief does her. But give a little
Scope to her sorrow. Shee will soon return
And meet her Reason in obedience
To your desires.
King.
I thank thee good Justinius.
A Song.
During which Disanius &c. discourse with the King. Di­sanius seems to acquaint the King with the manner of Philargus death, pointing at Varillus. The King seems much troubled; but at the end of the song, (as by the Kings appointment Disanius rais­eth Philocles, and Justinius raiseth Eudina, and bring them to the King while Eupathus with the At­tendants go forth with the herse, the Recorders play­ing. which done,
King.
Your virgin tears and vowes ore your lost love
I did attend with pardon, my Eudina,
I [...] hope you are now compliant to my will.
Dis.
Grieve not your father Madam.
Eud.
I ha'done;
And as the Gods direct him to command me,
I must and will obey.
Dis.
So that's well said.
King.
The Gods have pleas'd Eudina to determine
Your doubtful choice, reserving Philocles
Unto your love without competitor:
Therefore it now remains that he be taken
Into your liking; whom I have decreed
My successor.
Eud.
His merits are above
Me and this land; In which what interest
My birth hath given me I resign to him.
Onely let me beseech a further respite.
King.
[Page 163]
For what? the celebration? I consent;
But for the contract, this imediate hour
Shall see it knit beyond all dissolution.
Dis.
I that I thirst to see.
King.
Give me your hands.
Eudina gives her hand.
Yours Philocles.
Dis.
Why give you not your hand,
Dare you not trust the King with't? should he now
Shew a jades trick and flie back.
Philoc.
I beseech
Under your highness Pardon, yet, a respite.
Dis.
More respits yet? Was ever hopeful match
Driven so round about?
King.
Why this delay?
Philoc.
My brothers blood cries in me for your justice
Which must be executed on his murderer
Before I safely can, or dare possess
His interest in the faith of fair Eudina.
Dis.
O, is that all? that may be soon dispatch'd.
Come forwards Poysoner. Good your Majesty,
For expedition, make me his judge,
And hangman too (I care not) rather then
Suffer this match hang o'the tenters thus.
King
Has he confes'd the fact?
Dis.
Yes, yes to me.
I beat it out of him. Quickly good King.
King
Your patience good Disanius Sirrah speak.
Var.
It was my act. But may your mercy look
Upon my love in it unto my Lord.
King
Your Lord shall be your j [...]dge then.
Philoc.
I ad­judge him
To sharp but lingring tortures (for his death
Alone can yeeld no satisfaction)
Tortures that may draw in, by his confession,
As accessaries with him, all the homicides
That are i'th' Kingdom.
Dis.
A hard matter that.
Philoc.
Nor can I think his onely brain and hands
Compos'd the poyson.
Dis.
Hang him, hee's a Barber,
And uses Aqua fortis, oyl of Vitriol,
Mercury, and such like, to cleanse his Rasors.
Just.
[Page 164]
'Tis good that you Varillus clear your conscience
And, if you had confederates in the fact,
Give up their names.
Ter.
Varillus, I suspect
Doris joyn'd hand with you in my Lords death.
Dis.
What's that you mutter?
Ter.
It shall out my Lord;
The handmaid Doris put him on't; I know't
By what she said to us both we being her lovers.
Dis.
The Taylor proves an honest man: because
He cannot have the wench himself, he'll hang her.
Var.
Of her I had the poyson, tis confest.
Exit Tersulus
Dis.
O that whore. King. Find her and drag her hither.
Enter Thymele.
Thy.
Where's my Philargus? Give me yet his body,
That with a mothers tears I may imbalm it.
Dis.
You have heard the wosul newes then; but my sister
Could grief recal Philargus, we would weep
A second deluge for his reparation;
Renew his breath by sighing, and awake him,
With grones out of his Sepulchre.
Thy.
Already
Have you inter'd him then? you made strange hast.
Was it your subtlety to send me hence,
Fearing my cries might have reviv'd him, king?
And so again delay'd your daughters marriage?
I have enough to cross it yet Philargus
Dis.
What's that?
Str.
Destraction sure.
King
My fear foresaw't.
Thy.
You are deceiv'd, for from my depth of so [...]row,
Through this thick film o [...] tears, I can perceive
You are about to joyn the hands and faiths
Of Philocles and Eudina,
King.
Is not that
Enough to dry your tears, and shew, you that
The Gods were rather merciful in leaving
This son, then rigorous in taking [...]other?
Dis.
Or would you now, cause you have lost Philargus,
Kill Philocles too by crossing of this contract?
Thy.
[Page 165]
It is the pleasure of the Gods I cross it.
Ent. Gar.
Dis.
Of devils it is. What can she mean? Go sleep.
Gar.
King by your leave.
Dis.
What sayes old suckbottle now?
Thy.
Nay I am here before you Garrula,
And now will tell the long hid secret for you.
And if I erre in it, disprove me.
Gar.
Tell't then.
My faltring tongue will fail me. I can hear tho'.
Drink [...]
Thy.
This contract must not be.
King
You then must yeeld
More reason then I find you have.
Thy.
Your self
Can never make it. You will sooner joyn
The Wolfe and Lamb. Falcon and Dove together.
King
No trifling I command you Thymele.
Philoc.
If you be serious, Mother, hold us not
In this suspence.
Thy.
Let not the royal blood
Of Thessaly be stain'd with an incestuous match.
King
How!
Gar.
She sayes right. They are both your lawful chil­dren
By your own vertuous Queen now in —Elisium.
King
What dreams are these of your distemperd heads,
Thy.
This is no dream or fable. But unfain'd
Sip.
As truth it self: Which with your gracious leave
I shall demonstrate, humbly craving pardon
For my so long concealment, as I'le yeeld
Due reason for it.
King.
Freely speak, you have it.
Thy.
You may remember in your civil wars,
(Those cruel warres, as I may justly stile' em)
In which my husband fell—
Dis.
O my brave brother!
Thy.
When open Rebels and domestick Traytors
Pursu'd your Crown and life; your gracious Queen
To have been brought to bed; and was beleev'd
To have miscarried by an abortive birth.
King.
True: In her flight she was constrain'd to take
A neighbouring cottage; and use the help
Of the Swains wife.
Gar.
That swain-ess was my self,
Though my deserts have glorified me since:
And by my help (and somewhat of the Gods)
[Page 166] She then made you the Father of that Prince.
Dis.
Take up thy bottle—Sister, speak you on.
Thy.
Th'affrighted queen (yet wise in that extremity)
Suspecting that the innocence of her babe
Born to a Kingdom, could not be secur'd
In those combustions from apparent danger,
Sent him to me in private, then in travel
Of my Philargus—Charging me to fain
A second labour, with the Midwifes aid,
For Philocles: I did, and was reputed
Mother of both.
King
I cannot think our Queen
Would keep us ignorant of so good a Fortune.
Thy.
I mov'd her oft to tell you. But she answer'd,
All is not sound, There's danger, yet; And when
After Eudyna's birth she felt her self
At point of death, she strictly did enjoyn
Me and this woman, onely conscious with her,
By oath of which she had prepar'd this copy
A paper.
In her own hand, to keep it silent, till
Philocles should be able to secure
Himself from treachery; or that your terme
Of life expiring, or some accident
Of no lesse consequence requir'd detection.
For further proof—
Kin.
My joy forbids more questioning
Give me my [...]lesh and blood into my bosome.
Thrice happy Fathers if your Children were
Borne to you thus of perfect Age. But where
Is now a Match for my Eudina. I
Have here a successor.
A shout within and crying Philargus, Philargus. &c.
King.
Hah! Voyces i'th Ayre that cry Philargus?
Eud.
Voyces that do tell me, I must follow him
Up to the heavens, and there be married to him.
Des.
Here's the She-Devil now.
Ent. Turs. with Dor.
Dor.
[Page 167]
You need not pull me
For that mans love, I laid thy Lord to sleep:
Had I lov'd thee best, then his Lord had slept.
Dis.
How does he sleep? speak impudent baggage, how?
Dor.
How? With a powder, Sir, which my own father
A skilful pothecary prepar'd; who, if
Philargus dye, shall hang with us for Company.
Dis.
Your father?
Dor.
Yes, But now the perils past.
See, if he sleep, tis walking.
Enter Philargus Eupathus.
Philoc.
Ha! Philargus.
Or but the shade; the spirit of my friend.
Philar.
Be not amaz'd, as at an apparition.
Thy.
Doth my son live? O then I have enough.
Dis.
Come hither. come hither you three. I will dis­charge
The scene of you▪ Thy love unto thy Lord
(Though somewhat unadvisedly imploy'd)
Deserves reward; Ile see it given thee,
Thy Lord and King shall thank thee: take thy wench,
She has love in her wit, and wit in her anger.
I like the luck of things; that ill intents
Should bring forth good events. Thy faithfulness
To thy Lord too was happy. Go, I▪le see you
Ext. Var. Ter Dor.
All royally rewarded. How now Geron?
Ger.
My Lord I see here's joy towards, as why—
Ent. Ger.
Dis.
'Slife, stand not Whiloming now man:but be brief.
Ger.
Cry mercy. I had left it. But my Lord
To celebrate the flowing joyes in Court,
I and my Countrey heads have fram'd a Masque,
Rather an antick dance, rather a countrey toy,
Rather a Rustick round; rather a—
Dis.
Hoy day!
Thy Rather's worse then thy Whilom. Dost know
What time o'day 'tis.
Ger.
Tis a rural thing
[Page 168] To be presented at the Princess wedding
And, if you think it meet, I will induce
The practise of it presently. As why—
Dis.
Go fetch the heads and heels, I'le stay the King,
To see and laugh at'em. That's grace enough.
Exit Geron.
King
Philargus you have much to know; the which
We will Eudina tell you, now shee's yours.
Receive her and our blessing.
Philar.
Were I dead
(As I was thought to be) your name pronounc'd
Over my grave, beyond all Necromancy,
Would call fresh blood into my veins again;
Strengthen my nerves, to break the Iron gates
Of death; and force my joyful spirit from
Th' Elisian Paradise to live with you.
King
You shall not be a looser Thymele:
Philocles shall be yours, and in exchange
Placilla mine.
Philoc.
To me my beauteous spouse
Thou art as Juno to her Jupiter,
Sister and wife.
Thy.
Your highness may be pleas'd
Now at so happy leasure to perpend
The Oracle; which truly hath effected
Each word of the prediction.
King
Who can repeat the answer, I ha'lost it.
Dis.
I have it.
Contend not for the jewel, which
Ere long shall both of you inrich.
Philoc.
Eudina does so: me in a dear sister.
Philar.
Me in a Peerless wife.
Dis.
Pursue your fortune: for 'tis she
Shall make ye what you seem to be.
Philoc.
She has done that too: For now indeed w'are brothers
King
Apollo thou hast fill'd us all with joy,
[Page 169] But has our joy already fill'd our Court
Loud Musick is here.
With Musick?
Dis.
Will your Majesty yet sit
And see the practise of a presentation,
Against the Marriages by your Swains of Tempe
With thanks; and give it all the grace we may?
Ger.
From Tempe plains, the Tempe Swains
Enter Geron and the Swains and Nymphs for the dance.
With mirth aud Melody,
With Dance and Song do hither throng
To greet your Majestie.
Gar.
O there, look there, Madam my Son, and all
My old Temperian Neighbours.
Ger.
We cannot hope in all our scope,
To gain much praise for skill,
But it shall be enough, if ye
Accept of our good will.
The Dance.
King.
My thanks to all.
All
Heaven bless your Majesty.
Exeunt.
King.
Thanks to Apollo. Let his temple be
The place of our solemnity. His Altars
Let them be laden with Arabian spices;
Let his Priests lead, in a devout procession,
The horned Sacrifice, mantled with Ghirlonds
And we (our Temples crown'd with Laurel) follow
With Musick, sounding Hymen and Apollo.
FINIS.

EPILOGƲE.

Tis not the Poets art, nor all that we
By life of Action can present unt'ye
Can justly make us to presume a Play
Is good till you approv't: which that you may
It cannot mis-become us, since our gains
Come by your favour more then all our pains.
Thus to submit us unto your commands
And humbly ask that favour at your hands.
THE WEEDING OF THE C …

THE WEEDING OF THE COVENT-GARDEN.

Or the Middlesex-JƲSTICE OF Peace.

A Facetious COMEDY.

A POSTHUME of RICHARD BROME, An Ingenious Servant, and Imitator of his Master, that famously Renowned Poet Ben. Johnson.

Aut prodesse solent, aut delectare Poetae.
Dramatis Personae.

LONDON, Printed for Andrew Crook, and are to be sold at the Green Dragon in St. Pauls Church-yard: And Henry Broom at the Gun in Ivy-lane. 1658.

Upon AGLAƲRA printed in Folio.

Br this large Margent did the Poet mean
To have a Comment writ upon his Scene?
Or is it that the Ladies, who ne're look
On any but a Poeme or Play-book,
May, in each page, have space to scribble down
When such a Lord, or Fashion comes to Town.
As Swaines in Almanacks account do keep,
When their Cow calv'd, and when they bought their sheep?
Ink is the life of Paper: 'tis meet then,
That this which scap'd the Press should feel the Pen.
A Room with one side furnish'd, or a face
Painted half-way, is but a faire disgrace.
This great voluminous Pamphlet may be said
To be like one that hath more haire then head;
More excrement then body. Trees, which sprout
With broadest leaves, have still the smallest fruit.
When I saw so much white, I did begin
To think Aglaura either did lie in,
Or else took Pennance. Never did I see
(unlesse in Bills dasht In the Chancerie).
So little in so much; as if the feet
Of Poetry, like Law, were sold by th'sheet.
If this new fashion should but last one yeare,
Poets, as Clerks, would make our paper dear.
Doth not the Artist erre, and blast his fame
[Page] That sets out pictures lesser then the frame?
Was ever Chamberlaine so mad, to dare
To lodge a childe in the great Bed at Ware?
Aglaura wo [...]ld please better, did she lie
I'th' narrow bounds of an Epitomie.
Pieces that are weav'd of the finest twist,
(As Silk and Plush) have still more stuffe then list.
She, that in Persian habit made great brags,
Degenerates in this excesse of rags;
Who, by her Giant-bulk this only gaines,
Perchance in Libraries to hang in chaines.
Tis not in Book, as Cloth; we never say
Make London-measure, when we buy a Play:
But rather have them pair'd: Those leaves be faire
To the judicious, which more spotted are.
Give me the sociable Pocket-books.
These empty Folio's only please the Cooks.
R. B.

A SONG.

A Way with all grief and give us more sack.
'Tis that which we love, let love have no lack.
Nor sorrow, nor care can crosse our delights,
Nor witches, nor goblins, nor Buttery sprights,
Tho' the candles burne dimme while we can do thus,
We'll scorn to flie them: but we'll make them flie us.
Old Sack, and old Songs, and a merry old crew
Will fright away Sprights, when the ground looks blew.

A PROLOGUE.

HE that could never boast, nor seek the way,
To prepare friends to magnifie his Play,
Nor raile at's Auditory for unjust,
If they not lik't it nor was so mistrust.
Ful ever in himself, that he besought
Preapprobation though they lik't it not.
Nor ever had the luck to have his name
Clap't up above this merit. Nor the shame
To be cried down below it. He this night
Your faire and free Attention does invite.
Only he prays no prejudice be brought
By any that before-hand wish it nought.
And that ye all be pleas'd to heare and see,
With Candor suiting his Integritie.
That for the Writer. Something we must say,
Now in defence of us, and of the Play
We shall present no Scandal or Abuse,
To vertue or to honour. Nor traduce
Person of worth. Nor point at the disgrace
Of any one residing in the Place,
On which our Scene is laid, nor any Action shew,
Of thing has there been done, for ought we know.
[Page] Though it be probable that such have been.
But if some vicious persons be brought in.
As no new Buildings, nor the strongest hold
Can keep ou [...] Rats and Vermine bad and bold.
Let not the sight of such be ill endur'd;
All sores are seen and search't before th' are cur'd.
As Ruffian, Bawd, and the licentious crew,
Too apt to pester Scituations new.

Another Prologue.

'Tis not amisse ere we begin our Play,
T' intreat you, that you take the same surveigh
Into your fancie, as our Poet took,
Of Covent-Garden, when he wrote his Book.
Some ten years since, when it was grown with weeds.
Not set, as now it is, with Noble Seeds.
Which make the Garden glorious. And much
Our Poet craves and hopes you will not grutch
It him, that since so happily his Pen
Foretold its faire emprovement, and that men
Of worth and honour should renown the place.
The Play may still retain its former grace.

To my LORD of Newcastle, on his PLAY called THE VARIETY. He having commanded to give him my true o­pinion of it.

My Lord,
I Could not think these seven yeares, but that I
In part a Poet was, and so might lie,
By the Poetick Licence. But I finde
Now I am none, and strictly am confin'd
To truth, if therefore I subpaena'd were
Before the Court of Chancerie to swear.
Or if from thence I should be higher sent,
And on my life unto a Parliament
Of wit and judgement, there to certifie
What I could say of your VARIETY:
I would depose each Scene appear'd to me
An Act of wit, each Act a Comedy,
And all was such, to all that understood,
As knowing Johnson, swore By God 'twas good.
R. B.

The Actors Names.

  • Rooksbill, a great Builder in Covent-Garden.
  • Crossewill, a Countrey Gentleman, Lodger in his Buildings.
  • Cockbrain, a Justice of Peace, the Weeder of the Garden.
  • Nicholas. Young Gentle­men. Rooksbills son.
    Gabriel. Crossewills elder son.
    Mihil. Cross. younger son.
    Anthony. Cockbraines son.
  • Mun Clotpoll, a foolish Gull.
  • Driblow, Captain of the Philoblathici.
  • Belt, Crossewills Servant.
  • Ralph, Dorcas Servant.
  • A Citizen.
  • A Parson.
  • A Taylor.
  • A Shoomaker.
  • A Vintner.
  • A Drawer.
  • Pig, Damaris Servant.
Women Actors.
  • Lucie, Rooksbills daughter.
  • Katharine, Crossewills daughter.
  • Dorcas, alias Damaris, Croswills Neece.
  • Margerie Howlet, a Bawd.
  • Bettie. Two Punks.
    Francisca.
  • A Laundresse.

THE COVENT-GARDEN Weeded.

ACT. I.

SCENE I.

Cockbrayne, Rookes-bill.
Cock.

I Marry Sir! This is something like! These appear like Buildings! Here's Architecture exprest in­deed! It is a most sightly scitua­tion, and fit for Gentry and Nobility.

Rook.

When it is all finished, doubtlesse it will be handsome.

Cock.

It will be glorious: and yond magnificent Peece, the Piazzo, will excel that at Venice, by hear­say, (I ne're travell'd). A hearty blessing on their braines, honours, and wealths, that are Projectors, Furtherers, and Performers of such great works. And now I come to you Mr. Rookesbill: I like your Rowe of houses most incomparably. Your money never [Page 2] shone so on your Counting-boards, as in those Stru­ctures.

Rook.

I have pil'd up a Leash of thousand pounds in walls and windows there.

Cock.

It will all come again with large en­crease.

And better is your money thus let out on red and white, then upon black and white, I say. You can­not think how I am taken with that Rowe! How even and straight they are! And so are all indeed. The Surveyor (what e're he was) has manifested himself the Master of his great Art. How he has wedded strength to beauty; state to uniformity; commodi­ousnesse with perspicuity! All, all as't should be!

Rook.

If all were as well tenanted and inhabited by worthy persons.

Cock.

Phew; that will follow. What new Planta­tion was ever peopled with the better sort at first; nay, commonly, the lewdest blades, and naughty­packs are either necessitated to 'hem, or else do prove the most forward venturers. Is not lime and hair the first in all your foundations? do we not soile or dung our lands, before we sowe or plant any thing that's good in 'hem? And do not weeds creep up first in all Gardens? and why not then in this? which never was a Garden until now; and which will be the Gar­den of Gardens, I foresee't. And for the weeds in it, let me alone for the weeding of them out. And so as my Reverend Ancestor Justice Adam Overdoe, was wont to say, In Heavens name and the Kings, and for the good of the Common-wealth I will go a­bout it.

Rook.

I would a few more of the Worshipful here­abouts, (whether they be in Commission or not) were as well minded that way as you are Sir; we should [Page 3] then have all sweet and clean, and that quickly too.

Cock.

I have thought upon a way for't, Mr. Rooks­bill: and I will pursue it, viz. to finde out all the enormities, yet be my selfe unspied: whereby I will tread out the spark of impiety, whilest it is yet a spark and not a flame; and break the egge of a mis­chief, whilest it is yet an egge and not a Cockatrice. Then doubt not of worthy tenants for your houses Mr. Rooksbill.

Rook.

I hope, Sir, your best furtherance.

Cock.

I had a letter bur last night from a worthy friend, a West-countrey Gentleman, that is, now coming up with his family to live in Town here; and desire is to inhabit in these buildings. He was to lie at Hammersmith last night, and requested an early meeting of me this morning here, to assist him in the taking of a house. It is my businesse hither; for he could never do't himselfe. He has the oldest touchy, wrangling humour.—But in a harmlesse way; for he hurts no body, and pleases himself in it. His children have all the trouble of it, that do anger him in obeying him sometimes. You will know him anon. I mean, he shall be your Tenant. And luckily he comes.

Enter Croswill, Gabriel, Katherine, Belt.
Cros.

It is not enough you tell me of obedience. Or that you are obedient. But I will be obeyed in my own way. Do you see—

(to Gab. and Ka.)
Cock.

My noble friend Mr. Croswill, right happi­ly met.

Cros.

Your troublesome friend Mr. Cockbrayne.

Cock.

No trouble at all, Sir, though I have pre­vented [Page 4] yours in finding a fit house for you.

Cros.

You ha' not ha' you, ha?

Cock.

Actum est Mr. Croswill. But Civility par­don me, Is not this your daughter?

Kisse.
Cros.

All the Shee-things I have: and would I were well rid of her too.

Cock.

Sweet Mrs. Katherine, Welcome—Mr. Gabriel, I take it.

Gab.

Gabriel Croswill is my name.

Cock.

But where's your younger sonne Mihill? There's a spark!

Cros.

A Spark! A dunce I fear by this time like his brother Sheepshead there.

Gab.

Gabriel is my proper name.

Gros.

I have not seen him this Twelve-moneth, since I chamber'd him a Student here in Town.

Cock.

In town, and I not know it?

Cros.

He knows not yet of my coming neither, nor shall not, till I steal upon him; and if I finde him mopish like his brother, I know what I will doe.

Cock.

Have you not heard from him lately?

Cros.

Yes, often by his letters, lesse I could reade more comfort in 'hem. I fear he's turn'd Precisian, for all his Epistles end with Amen; and the-matter of 'hem is such as if he could teach me to ask him blessing.

Rook.

A comfortable hearing of a young man.

Cros.

Is it so Sir? but I'le new mould him if it be so.—I'le tell you Mr. Cockbrayne; never was such a father so crost in his children. They will not obey me in my way. I grant, they do things that other fathers would rejoyce at. But I will be obeyed in my own way, dee see. Here's my eldest sonne. Mark how he stands, as if he had learn't a posture at Knights-bridge [Page 5] spittle as we came aloug while-eare. He was not only borne without wit, but with an obstinate re­solution, never to have any. I mean, such wit as might become a Gentleman.

Cock.

Was that resolution borne in him think you.

Cros.

It could never grow up in him still as it does else. When I would have him take his horse, and follow the dogs, and associate Gentlemen, in hawk­ing, hunting, or such like exercises, he'l run you a foot five mile another way, to meet the brethren of the separation, at such exercises as I never sent him to (I am sure) on worky dayes. And whereas most Gentlemen run into other mens books, in hands that they care not who reades, he has a book of his own Short-writing in his pocket, of such stuffe as is fit for no mans reading indeed but his own.

Gab.

Surely Sir.—

Cros.

Sure you are an Asse. Hold your tongue.

Gab.

You are my father.

Rook.

What comfort should I have, were my son such.

Cros.

And he has nothing but hang'd the head, as you see now, ever since Holiday sports were cried up in the Countrey. And but for that, and to talk with some of the silenc'd Pastors here in town about it, I should not have drawn him up.

Rook.

I would I could change a sonne w' you Sir.

Cros.

What kinde of thing is thy sonne? ha! dost thou look like one that could have a sonne fit for me to father, ha? And yet the best take both, and t' please you at all adventures, ha?

Rook.

I am sure there cannot be a worse, or more debauch'd reprobate then mine is living.

Cros.

And is the devil too good a Master for [Page 6] him, think'st thou, ha? Wherein can I deserve so ill at thy hands, fellow, whate're thou art, that thou should'st wish me comber'd with a worse burden, when thou hearest me complain of this, ha? What is this fellow that you dare know him, Friend Cock­brayn? I will not dwell within three parishes of him.

Rook.

My tenant! Blesse me from him. I had ra­ther all my Rents were Bawdy houses.

Cock.

Think nothing of his words, he'll forget all instantly. The best natur'd man living.

Cros.

Dost thou stand like a son now that hears his father abus'd, ha?

Gab.

I am praying for the conversion of the young man he speaks of.

Coek.

Well said, Mr. Gabriel.

Cros.

But by the way, where's your sonne Antho­ny? have you not heard of him yet?

Cock.

Never since he forsook me, on the discon­tent he took, in that he might not marry your daugh­ret there. And where he lives, or whether he lives or not, I know not. I hope your davghter is a comfort to you.

Cros.

Yes, in keeping her chamber whole weeks together, fullenning upon her Samplery breech-work, when I was in hope she would have made me a Grand­father ere now. But she has a humour, forsooth, since we put your son by her, to make me a match-broker, her marriage-Maker; when I tell you friend, there has been so many untoward matches of Pa­rents making, that I have sworn she shall make her own choice, though it be of one I hate. Make me her match-maker! Must I obey her, or she me, ha?

Cock.

I wish, with teares, my sonne had had her now.

Kat.
[Page 7]

Wherein Sir, (under correction do I disobey you?

Cros.

In that very word, under correction, thou dis­obey'st me. Are you to be under correction at these yeares? ha! If I ha' not already taught you manners beyond the help of correction, go, seek a wiser father to mend 'hem.

Kat.

Yet give me leave, dear Sir, in my ex­cuse.—

Cros.

Leave out correction then.

Kat.
If I were forward as many Maidens are,
To wish a husband, must I not be sought?
I never was a Gadder: and my Mother,
Before she dy'd, adjur'd me to be none.
I hope you'll give me leave to keep your house.
Cros.

La there again! How subtly she seeks dominion over me! No, huswife, No; you keep no house of mine. I'll nestle you no longer under my wing. Are you not fledge; I'll have you fly out I, as other mens daughters do; and keep a house of your own if you can find it.

Gab.

We had a kinswoman flew out too late­ly, I take it.

Cros.

What tell'st thou me of her; wise-acres? Can they not flie out a little, but they must turne arrant vvhores, ha? Tell me of your kinswoman? 'Tis true, she was my Neece; she vvent to't a little afore her time? some tvvo years since, and so fled from Re­ligion; and is turn'd Turk, vve fear. And vvhat of that in your precisiancial vvisdom? I have such children as no man has. But (as I vvas saying,) vvould ye top me husvvife, ha! Look you, novv I chide her, she sayes nothing. Is this obedience, ha?

Kat.

Perhaps, I might unfortunately cast my affecti­on on a man that vvould refuse me.

Cros.

That man I vvould desire to knovv; shevv me that man; see if I svvinge him not dares slight my daughter.

Cock.
[Page 8]

Still the old humour, self-vvill'd, crosse, and touchie; but suddainly reconcil'd. Come, Mr. Cros­wil, to the businesse.

Cros.

Oh, you told me of a house you had found for me.

Cock.

Yes Sir. And here's the Landlord.

Cros.

Does he look, or go like one could let a house vvorthy of me.

Cock.

Sir, vve have able Builders here, that vvill not carry least shevv of their buildings on their backs. This is a rich sufficient man, I assure you, and my friend.

Cros.

I cry him heartily mercy, and embrace him. And novv I note you better, you look like Thrift it self.

Enter Dorcas above upon a Bellconie. Gabriel gazes at her. Dorcas is habited like a Curtizan of Venice.

I cannot think you vvill throvv avvay your houses at a cast. You have a sonne, perhaps, that may, by the commendations you gave of him. Lets see your house.

Cock.

Come avvay Mr. Gabriel.

Cros.

Come Sir, vvhat do you gape a [...]d shake the head at there? I'll lay my life he has spied the little Crosse upon the nevv Church yond, and is at defiance vvith it. Sirrah, I vvill make you honour the first syllable of my name. My name is Will. Croswill, and I vvill have my humour. Let those that talk of me for it, speak their pleasure, I vvill do mine.

Gab.

I shall obey you, Sir.

Cros.

Novv you are in the right. You shall indeed. I'll make your heart ake else, dee see.

Gab.

But truly I vvas looking at that Image; that [Page 9] painted idolatrous image yonder, as I take it.

Cock.

O heresie! It is some Lady, or Gentlewo­man standing upon her Bellconey.

Belt.

Her Bellconey? Where is it? I can spy from her foot to her face, yet I can see no Bellconey she has.

Cock.

What a Knave's this: That's the Bellconey she stands on, that which jets out so on the forepart of the house; every house here has one of 'hem.

Belt.

'Tis very good; I like the jetting out of the forepart very well; it is a gallant fashion indeed.

Cock.

I guess what she is, what ere I have said. O Justice look to thine office.

Cros.

Come now to this house, and then to my son Mihil, the Spark you spoke of. And if I find him cross too, I'le cross him: Let him look to't▪ Dee see.

Cock.

I'le see you hous'd; and then about my pro­ject, which is for weeding of this hopeful Garden.

Ex. omnes.
Gabriel stayes last looking up at her.
Dam.
Why should not we in England use that free­dome
The famous Curtezans have in Italy:
We have the art, and know the Theory
To allure and catch the wandring eyes of Lovers;
Yea, and their hearts too: but our stricter Lawes
Forbids the publique practise, our desires
Are high as theirs; our wills as apt and forward;
Our wits as ripe, our beauties more attractive;
Or Travellers are shrewd lyars. Where's the let?
Only in bashful coward custome, that
Stoops i'the shoulders, and submits the neck
To bondage of Authority; to these Lawes,
That men of feeble age and weaker eye-sight
Have fram'd to bar their sons from youthful pleasures.
Possets and Cawdels on their queasie stomacks,
[Page 10] Whilst I fly out in brave rebellion;
And offer, at the least, to break these shackles
That holds our legs together: And begin
A fashion, which pursu'd by Cyprian Dames,
May perswade Justice to allow our Games.
Who knows? I'le try. Francisca bring my Lute.
Enter Fran. with Lute.
while she is tuning her Lute: Enter Nich. Rookesbill, Anthony in a false beard, Clotpoll.
Clot.

Troth I have a great mind to be one of the Philoblathici, a Brother of the Blade and Battoon, as you translate it; now ye have beat it into my head: But I fear I shall never come on and off handsomely. I have mettal enough methinks, but I know not how methinks to put it out.

Nich.

We'l help you out with it, and set it flying for you never doubt it.

Clot.

Obotts, you mean my money mettal, I mean my valour mettal I.

Ant.

Peace, heark.

Clot.

T'other flyes fast enough already.

Nic.

Pox on ye peace.

Song.
Nic.

O most melodious.

Clot.

Most odious, Did you say? It is methinks most odoriferous.

Ant.

What new devise can this be? Look!

Nic.

She is vanisht. Is't not the Mountebanks Wife that was here; and now come again to play some new merry tricks by herself.

Clot.
[Page 11]

A botts on't, I never saw that Mountebank; they say, he brought the first resort into this new plan­tation, and sow'd so much seed of Knavery and Co­zenage here, that 'tis fear'd 'twill never out.

Nic.

Nay but this creature: What can she be?

Clot.

And then again, he drew such flocks of idle people to him, that the Players, they say, curst him abhominably.

Ant,

Thou ever talk'st of the wrong matter.

Clot.

Cry mercy Brothers of the Blade and Bat­toune: Do you think if I give my endeavour to it, I shall ever learn to roar and carry it as you do, that have it naturally, as you say.

Nic.

Yes, as we'll beat it into you. But this wo­man, this musical woman, that set her self out to show so, I would be satisfied in her.

Clot.

And she be as able as she seems, she has in her to satisfie you, and you were a Brother of ten Blades, and ten Battounes.

Nic.

I vow—Peace. I'le battoune thy teeth into thy tongue else; she bears a stately presence. Thou never saw'st her before: Didst thou Toney?

Ant.

No; but I heard an inkling at the Paris Tavern last night of a She-Gallant-that had travelled France and Italy; and that she would—

(Clot.

Battoun thy teeth into thy tongue.)

write table.
Ant.

Plant some of her forraign collections, the fruits of her travels, in this Garden here, to try how they would grow or thrive on English earth.

Nic.

Young Pig was speaking of such a one to me, and that she was a Mumper.

Clot.

What's that a Sister of the Scabberd, brother of the Blade?

Nic.

Come, come; we'l in, we'l in; 'tis one of our fathers buildings; I'le see the Inhabitants. Some money Clot. furnish I say, and quickly.—I vow—

Clot.
[Page 12]

You shall, you shall.

Nic.

What shall I?

Clot.

Vow twice before you have it.

Nic.

I vow, and I vow again, I'le coyn thy brains.—

Clot.

Hold, hold, take your powl money; I thought I would have my will; and the word I look-for, I'le coyn thy brains.—

write.

I do not love to give my money for nothing, I have a volume of words here, the worst of 'hem is as good as a blow; and then I save my Crown whole half a dozen times a day, by half a crown a time, there's half in half sav'd by that.

Nic.

Come let's appear civil, till we have our en­trance, and then as occasion serves—

Knock.
Enter Fran.

Who would you speak withal?

Nic.

Your Mistress, little one.

Fran.

Do you know her Sir?

Nic.

No; but I would know her, that's the busi­ness: I mean the musical Gentlewoman that was fidling, and so many in the What-doe-call't een now.

Fran.

What-doe-call her Sir, I pray?

Nic.

What-doe-call her; 'tis not come to that yet, prethee let me see and speak with her first.

Fran.

You are dispos'd I think.

Nic.

What should we do here else?

Fra.

You wont thrust in upon a body whether one will or no.

Ant. Nic.

Away you Monkey.

Fra.

O me, What do you mean?

Clot.

O my brave Philoblathici.—

Ex. omnes.
Enter Dorcas, alias Damaris, Madge.
Dam.

What's the matter the Girl cryes out so?

Ma.
[Page 13]

I know not: I fear some rude company, some of the wild crew are broke into the house.

Fran.

Within. Whether would you go, you wont rob the house will ye?

Nic.

Will ye be quiet Whiskin?

Ma.

O me 'tis so: Hell's broke loose; this comes of your new fingle-fangle fashion, your prepostrous Italian way forsooth: would I could have kept my old way of pots and pipes, and my Strong-water course for customers: The very first twang of your fiddle guts has broke all, and conjur'd a legion of de­vils among us.

Enter Nic. Ant. Clot.
Nic.
Nay, there's but a Leash of us. How now?
Who have we here? Are these the far travel'd Ladies?
O thou party perpale, or rather parboild Bawd.
Mad.

What shall I do? Dam. Out alass; sure they are devils indeed.

Nic.

Art thou travel'd cross the Seas from the Bankside hither, old Countess of Codpiece-row?

Clot.

Party perpale and parboild Bawd.—

Write.
Ant.

And is this the Damsel that has been in France and Italy? Clot. Codpiece-row.

Mad.

Peace ye roaring Scabs: I'le besworn she supt at Paris Tavern last night, and lay not long ago at the Venice by Whitefryers Dock.

Nic.

Prethee what is she Madge?

Mad.

A civil Gentlewoman you see she is.

Nic.

She has none of the best faces: but is she war­rantable; I have not had a civil night these three moneths.

Madge.

Nor none are like to have here, I assure you.

Nic.

O Madge how I do long thy thing to ding didle ding.

Mad.
[Page 14]

O Nick, I am not in the humour, no more is she to be o'the merry pin now; I am sure her case is too lamentable. But if you will all sit down, I'le give you a bottle of wine, and we'l relate her story to you, so you will be civil. Nic. Well for once, I care not if we be.

A Table bottle, light, and Tobacco stales.

Let us set to't then; sit down brother Toney, sit down Gentlewoman, we shall know your name a­non, I hope it will fall in your story; sit down Clot­poll.

Clot.

You will call me brother Clotpoll too when I have taken my oath, and paid my entrance into the faternity of the Blade and the Battoun.

Nic.

'Tis like we shall. Now Lady of the Stygian Lake, thou black infernal Madge, begin the dismal story, whilst I begin the bottle.

Mad.

This Gentlewoman whose name is Damyris.

Nic.

Damyris stay. Her nick-name then is Dammy, so we may call her when we grow familiar: and to begin that familiarity, Dammy here's to you. —drink.

Dam.

And what's your nick-name I pray Sir?

Nic.

Nick: only Nick, Madge there knows it.

Dam.

Then I believe your name is Nicholas.

Nic.

I vow-witty. Yes Dammy, and my Sirname is Rookesbill, and so is my Fathers too: and what do you make o'that?

Dam.

Nothing not I Sir: sure this is he.

Nic.

And I would he were nothing, so I had all he has: I must have tother glass to wash him out of my mouth, he furs it worse then Mondongas Tobacco. Here old Madge, and to all the birds that shall won­der at thy howletship, when thou rid'st in an Ivy-bush, call'd a Cart.

Mad.
[Page 15]

Well mad Nick, I'le pledge thee in hope to see as many flutter about the tree, that thou shalt clime backwards.

Nic.

A pox thou wilt be stifled with Offal and Car­ret leaves before that day.

Dam.

Fie, fie, what talk's this? 'tis he I am consi­dent.

Mad.

These are our ordinary complements, we wish no harm.

Nic.

No Dammy I vow, not I to any breathing.

Mad.

But your Father Nick.—Is he that Rookes­bill.—

Nic.

But my Fathet; Pox rot ye, why do ye put me in mind of him again, he sticks i'my throat, now I'le wash him a little further.—Here Brother Toney

Ant.

Gramercy Brother Nick.

Clot.

And to all the brothers that are, and are to be of the Blade and the Battoun.

Nic.

There said you well Clotpoll: Here 'tis—

Drink.
Mad. sets away the Bottle.
Mad.

I would but have asked you whether your Father were that Rookesbill that is call'd the great Builder.

Nic.

Yes marry is it he forsooth; he has built I know not how many houses hereabout, though he goes Dammy as if he were not worth a groat; and all his cloaths I vow are not worth this hilt, except those he wears, and prayes for fair weather in, on my Lord Mayors Day; and you are his Tenant, though perhaps you know it not, and may be mine; therefore use me well: for this house and the rest I hope will be mine, as well as I can hope he is mortal, of which I must confess I have been in some doubt, though now I hope again, he will be the first shall lay his bones i'the new Church, though the Church-yard be too good [Page 16] for him before 'tis consecrated. So give me the to-the cup, for now he offends my stomack. Here's to thee now Clotpoll.

Clot.

And to all the Sisters of the Scabberd Bro­ther in Election. Dee hear, Pray talk of his father no more, for the next brings him to the belly-work, and then he'll drink him quite through him.

Mad.

And so we shall have a foul house.

Ant.

No he shall stick there. Now to the story Gentlewoman, 'twas that we sate for.

Nic.

I to the story, I vow I had almost forgot it; and I am the worst at Sack in a morning: Dear Dam­my to the story.

Dam.

Good Sir my heart's too full to utter't.

Nic.

Troth and my head's too full to hear it: But I'le go out and quarrel with some body to settle my brains, then go down to Mich. Crossewill to put him in mind of our meeting to day; then if you will meet me at the Goat at Dinner, wee'll have it all at large.

Dam.

Will you be there indeed Sir, I would speak with you seriously.

Nic.

Dammy if I be not, may my father out live me.

Ant.

We both here promise you he shall be there by noon.

Clot.

'Lady, 'tis sworn by Blade and by Battoun.

Nic.

This will be the bravest discovery for Mihill, the new Italian Bona Roba Catsoe.

Mad.

Why so sad on the suddain Niece.

Dam.

But do you think hee'll come as he has pro­mis'd.

Mad.

He never breaks a promise with any of us' though he fail all the honest part o'the world: But I trust you are not taken with the Ruffian, you'll nere get penny by him.

Exeunt Nic. Anth. and Clodp.
Dam.

I prethee peace, I care not.

[Page 17] Enter Rafe.
Ra.

But Mystris, rhere is a Gallant now below, a Gingle boy indeed, that has his pockets full of, crowns that chide for vent. Shall I call him up to you.

Dam.

I will see no man.

Mad.

How's that? I hope you jest.

Dam.

Indeed, I hope you jest.

Mad.

You will not hinder the house, I hope. Marry heigh. This were a humour and 'twould last. Go fetch him up.

Dam.

I'le flie then out at window. Nay, by this steel 'tis true.

Mad.

What's the matter? have I got a mad wo­man into the house. What do you go about to break me the first day of your coming, before you have han­sell'd a Couch or a Bedside in't. Were you but now all o'th heigh to set your self out for a signe with your fiddle cum twang, and promise such wonders, for­sooth, and will not now be seen. Pray what's the Riddle.

Dam.

I'll tell thee all anon. Prithie excuse me. I know thy share of his sins bounty would not come to thus much, take it, I give it thee. And prithee let me be honest till I have a mince to be otherwise, and I'le hinder thee nothing.

M [...]d.

Well, I'le dismisse the Gallant, and send you, Sirrah, for another wench. I'le have Besse Bufflehead again. This kicksy wincy Giddibrain will spoil all I'le no more Italian tricks.—

Ex. with Rafe
Thus some have by the phrensie of despair
Fumously run into the sea to throw
Their wretched bodies, but when come near
They saw the billows rise, heard Boreas blow,
[Page 14] And horrid death appearing on the Maine,
A sudden fear hath sent them back again.

Act. II.

Scaen. I.

Enter Mihill. Taylor. Shoomaker.
Mi.

NAy, but honest Shoomaker; thy honest price.

Sho.

I tell you intruth, Sir, 'tis as good a boot as e­ver you pull'd on in your life.

Mi.

A little too streight, I doubt. What do you think o' my boots honest Tailor.

Tay.

They do exceeding handsomely, never trust me Sir.

Mi.

Never fear it Tailor, you shall trust me, and please you.

Tay.

You are pleasant Sir.

Mi.

And what do you think of my suite Shooma­ker? can you say as much for the Tailor as he for you.

Sho.

A very neat suite, Sir, and becomes you ex­cellent.

Mi.

Honest men both, and hold together; one would little think you were so near neighbours. Well, you, have fitted me both, I must confesse. But how I shall fit you, now there's the point.

Tay.

There's but one way for than and please you.

Sho.

With paying us our money Sit.

Mi.

Still both in a tale, I can not but commend your neighbourhood, I muse my Laundresse stayes, [Page 15] I sent her three or foure wayes for moneys. But do not you stay for that. I have wayes enough to pay you. I have ploughes a going that you dream not of.

Tay.

No indeed, Sir, we dream of nothing but ready money, sleeping or waking.

Mi.

I shall be rich enough ne're fear't. I have a venter in the new soap businesse man.

Tay.

We are but servants, Sir. And our Ma­sters themselves have no faith, in flippery pro­jects.

Sho.

Besides, the women begin to grumble a­gainst that slippery project shrewdly, and, 'tis feard, will mutinie sho tly.

Mi.

Burlakin, and they may prove more trouble­some then a commotion of Sailors.

Enter Laundresse.

O welcome, Laundresse, where's the money.

Laun.

Not a penny of money, Sir, can I get. But here's one come to town has brought you enough, and you can have grace to finger it.

Mi.

Who's that I prithee.

Laun.

Your father, your father Sir. I met his man by great chance, who told me his Master meanes to steal upon you presently, and take you as he findes you.

Mi.

Is he come up with his crosse tricks. I hea [...]d he was to come. And that he meanes to live here altogether. He has had an aime these dozen years to live in town here, but never was fully bent on't un­til the Proclamation of restraint spurr'd him up. 'Tis such a Crossewill. Well, he is my father, and I am utterly undone if thou help'st me not now at a pinch, at a pinch, dear Laundresse. Go borrow me a Gown, [Page 20] and some foure or five Law-books? for, I protest, mine are in Duck-lane. Nay, trudge, sweet Laun­dresse, trudge.—

Ex. Laun.

Honest Tailor and Shoemaker convey your selves away quietly, and I'll pay you to morrow, as I am a Gentleman:

Shoe.

As I am a Shoemaker, and that's a kinde of a Centleman, you know, I'll not stirre till I have my money, I am not an Asse Sir.

Mi.

No body sayes thou art.

Shoe.

I have had too many such tricks put upon me i' my dayes.

Mi.

A trick! as I hope for money it is no trick.

Shoe.

Well Sir, trick or no trick. I must have my money or my boots, and that's plain dealing.

Mi.

A pox o'th' boots, so my legs were out of 'hem. Would they were i'thy throat, spurres and all, you will not out.

Shoe.

No marry will we not.

Tay.

Well-said Shoomaker, I commend thee, thou hast a better heart then I, though my stomack's good.

Enter Laundresse.
Mi.

O well said, my good Laundresse. How am I bound to thee; yet all this wo'not do't Laundresse. Thou must bestir thy stumps a little further, and bor­row me a couple of Gownes more for these Rascals here that will not away.

Laun.

How! wo'not away? And they were well serv'd, they would be thrust out of doors for saucie companions. Your Masters would not put a Gentle­man to his trumps thus.

M;.

Nay, svveet Laundresse, restrain thy tongue, and stretch thy feet. A couple of Govvns, good [Page 21] Laundresse, and forget not caps.

Ex.

If I do novv furnish you like Civil Lavvyers, and you do not keep your countenances; if ever you do but peep in at the Hall-door at Christmas to see the revels, I'le have you set i'th' stocks for this beleeve it.

Sho.

If you do, Sir, I may hap be even vvith you before the year comes about, and set you in our stocks for't.

Tay.

But will you make Lawyers of us.

Mi.

Have you a minde to have your money you unbelieving Rascals.

Shoc.

I see your drift, and hope you'll prove an honest Gentleman.

Mi.

Thou hast some hope, though no faith nor trust in any man.

Shoe.

Alas, Sir, our Masters sit at grear rents, and keep great families.

Mi.

I cry you mercy, they are remov'd into the nevv plantation here, where, they say, are a tribe of Infidel-tradesmen, that have made a Law vvithin your selves to put no trust in Gentlemen. But beare your selves handsomely here you vvere best. I am acquainted vvith a crevv that haunts about your ha­bitations, vvith whom I will joyne, and so batter your windows one of these nights else. —O welcom, Laundresse, how doest thou toile for me.

Laun.

Your fathers talking, as I am a woman, be­low.—As thou art a woman below, well-said. Come on with these Gownes, and lets see how yow'll look. If we had time, the Shoomaker should wash his face; but seeing there is no remedy; pull the cap in your eyes, and good enongh. Now Laun­dresse, set us stooles, and leave us.

Laun.

I hear him coming up.

Ex.
Mi.

Now let him come, we are ready for him. Shoomaker, keep your hand underneath the [Page 18] book, that the pitch do not discover you.

Sho.

I warrant you, Sir.

Mi.

And Taylor, be sure you have no Needle on your sleeve, nor thread about your neck.

Tay.

I warrant you too for me, Sir.

Mi:

He's enrred.

Enter Croswill, Belt, and stand aside.
Mi.

Remitter, I say, is where a man hath two titles, that is to say, one of an elder, the other of a later. And he cometh to the land by the later title; yet the Law adjudgeth him to be in by the force of the elder title. If the tenant in the taile discontinee the taile, and after he diseaseth his dis­continue, and so dieth seised, whereby the tenants descend to their issue, as to his Cousin inheritable by force of the taile. In this case the tenants descend, who have right by force of the taile, a Remitter in the taile taken for that in the Law, shall put and ad­judge him to be in by force of descent. Pox on ye, speak something good or bad, somewhat.

Sho.

The Remitter, you say, is seised i'th' tail.

Mi.

Excellent Shoomaker, I say so, and again, I say, that if the tenant in the taile in feoffe his son, or his Cousin, inheritable by force of the taile, the which sonne or cousin at the time of the feoffment is within age, and after the tenant in the taile dierh, this is a Remitter to the heire in the taile to whom the feoffment is made, now Taylor.

Tay.

Think you so, Sir.

Mi.

Look either Fitzherbert, Perkins, or Dier, and you shall finde it in the second part of Richard Cordelyon. So much for Remitter. Novv I'll put a plain home-spun case, as a man may say, vvhich vve call a moot-case.

Sho.
[Page 19]

I pray do Sir.

Cross.

Some father might take joy of such a sonne novv. This takes not me. No, this is not my vvay.

Mi.

The case is this

(aside)

pull up your grounds closer and behang'd, you are a Tailor, and you: a Shoomaker.

Sho.

And you owe us money.

Mi.

I put the case, I do, to you for a suit of clothes.

Tay.

Well.

Mi.

And to you for a paire of boots.

Sho.

True.

Mi.

I have broke my day with you both. Sup­pose so.

Both.

Very well, we do.

Mi.

You clap a Sergeant o' my back. I put in bail, remove it, and carry it up into the upper Court, with habeas-Corpus; bring it down again into the lower Court with procedendo; then take it from thence, and bring it into the Chancery with a Cer­tiorari; I; and if you look not to [...]t, bring it out of the Chancery again, and thus will I keep you from your money till your suite and your boots be worne out before you recover penny of me.

Sho.

S [...]ly'd but you shall not, your father shall know all first.

Mi.

S'foot Shoomaker wilt thou be an Asse. I do but put a case, Have you not feen it tried.

Tay.

Yes, very often.

Cross.

Away with books. Away with Law. Away with madnesse. I, God blesse thee, and make thee his servant, and defend thee from Law, I say. Take up these books, sarrah, and carry them presently into Pauls Church-yard dee see, and change them all for Histo­ries, as pleasant as profitable; Arthur of Britain, [Page 24] Primalion of Greece, Amadis of Gaul, and such like de see.

Mi.

I hope he do's but jest.

Cross.

And do you heare, Sirrah.

Belt.

I Sir.

Cross.

Get Bells work, and you can, into the bar­gain.

Belt.

Which Bell, Sir? Adam Bell, with Clim [...]'th' Clough, and William of Cloudesley.

Cros.

Adam Bell you Asse? Valiant Bell that kill'd the Dragon.

Belt.

You mean St. George.

Cros.

Sir Jolthead, do I not. I'le teach you to chop logick, vvith me.

Mi.

Sfoot, how shall I answer my borrow'd books? Stay Belt. Pray Sir, do not change my books.

Cros.

Sir, Sir, I will change them and you too: Did I leave thee here to learn fashions and manners, that thou mightst carry thy self like a Gentleman, and dost thou wast thy brains in learning a language that I understand not a word of? ha! I had been as good have brought thee up among the wild Irish.

Mi.

Why alass Sir, Had I not better keep my self within my Chamber, at my Studie, then be rioting a­broad, wasting both money and time, which is more precious then money? if you did know the inconve­nience of company, you would rather incourage and commend my retir'd life, then any wayes dehort me from it.

Cros.

Why Sir did not I keep companie think you when I was young? Ha!

Ml.

Yes Sir; but the times are much alter'd, and youth more corrupted now, they did not drink and wench in those dayes, but nay, o 'tis abominable in these.

Cros.

Why this is that I fear'd, the boyes turning [Page 25] meacock too, after his elder brother, 'twas time to look to him.

Nick. Rookesbill. Ant. Clotp.
Nich.

Why Croswill Mich. What, not up yet and behang'd. Or ha ye a wench a bed wye. Is this keep­ing your home. Mihil runs to the door and holds it.

Mi.

Sfoot the Rogue Rooksbil and his crew, I fear'd as much.

Nic.

Break open the door, let me come to't.

Mi.

Forbear, or behang'd, you will undo me, my father's here. I'll meet you anon as I am honest.

Nic.

Your father's a Clowterdepouch. Nay, I will come then, what Madamoiselle do you call fa­ther.

They Enter.
Mi.

You would not believe me. Pray be civil.

Ant.

'Tis so, we will Cry mercy, you are busie, we will not moote to day then?

Mi.

I hope you may excuse me, I'le be w'ye a­non.

Nic.

Come to the Goat Capricorne. We have the bravest new discovery.

Ex.
Cros.

How now! what are these?

Mi.

They are Gentlemen of my standing, Sir, that have a little over-studied themselves, and are some­what—.

Cros.

Mad; are they not? And so will you be shortly, if you follow these courses. Mooting do they call it? you shall moote nor mute here no long­er. Therefore on with your cloak and sword, follow me to the Tavern and leave me such long-tail'd com­pany as these are, for I do not like them.

Mi.

No more do I, Sir, if I knew how to be rid of 'hem.

Cros.
[Page 22]

I think thou hast ne're a sword, hast thou, ha?

Mi.

Yes Sir.

Cros.

Where is it, Sir, let me se't Sir.

Mi.

'Tis here, under mybed, Sir.—Reach it.

Cros.

Why there's a Lawyers trick right, make his weapon companion with his Pisse-pot. Fie, fie, here's a tool indeed. There's money, Sir, buy you a good one, one with the Mathematical hilt as they terme it.

Mi.

It would do better in Mathematical books▪ Sir, offer me no money, pray Sir, but for books.

Cros.

Go to, you are a peevish Jack, do not pro­voke me: do not you owe me obedience? ha!

Mi.

Yes Sir, I acknowledge it.

Cros.

'Tis good you do. Well, take that money; and put your selfe into cloathes befitting your rank, Do so. And let me see you, squirting about without a weapon, like an Attorneys Clerk in Tearm-time, and I'l weapon you, What, shall I have a Noddie of you. This frets him to the liver. Go to, never hang the head for the matter. For I tell thee I will have it so, and herein be knowen what I am.

[Aside
Mi.

You are known sufficiently for your crosse humour already; in which I'll try you if I can make you double this money, for this will not serve my turne.

Cros.

What have you told it after me, you had best weigh it too.

Mi.

No Sir, but I have computed that for my present use, here is too much by halfe, pray Sir, take halfe back.

Cros.

Bodie o' me, what a perverse knave is this, to crosse me thus! Is there too much, say you? ha [...]

Mi.
[Page 23]

Yes truly, sir.

Cros.

Let me see't. Go thy wayes, take thy mu­sty books, and rhy rustie whittle here again. And take your foolish plodding dunci-coxcomely course, till I look after you again. Come away sirrah.

Ex. with Belt.
Mi.

Sfoot, who's the Gull now? Taylor, Shoo­maker, you may go pawn your Gownes for any mo­ney I am like to have.

Shoo.

We have all played the Lavvyers to pret­ty purpose, in pleading all this while for nothing. Well sir, to avoid further trouble, I am content to withdravv my action, that is, pull off your boots a­gain, and be jogging.

Tayl.

And for my part, sir, I can do no lesse then take you by default and non-suit you.

Enter Belt.
Mi.

Very good Lavvyers both, Is my father quite gone Belt?

Belt.

Gone in a tempest of high displeasure, sir: And has sent you here all the money he had about him; and bids you refuse it if you dare, 'tis above tvvice the summe he offered you before; but good sir, do not refuse it. He svvears he vvill try vvhe­ther you or he shall have his vvill. Take heed you crosse him not too much.

Mi.

Well at thy request, because thou shalt not have anger for carrying it back again, I vvill accept.

Belt.

I thank you Sir. Consider, he's your fa­ther, sir.

Mi.

I do most Reverend Belt. and vvould be loth to crosse him, although I may as much in taking his money as refusing it, for ought I knovv, for thou knovv'st 'tis his custome to crosse me, and the rest [Page 28] of his children in all we do, to try and urge his obe­dience; 'tis an odde way: therefore to help my self I seem to covet the things that I hate, and he pulls them from me; and makes shew of loathing the things I covet, and he hurles them doubly at me, as now in this money.

Belt.

Are you so crafty?

Mi.

Yes, but do thou put it in his head, and I'le pick out thy braines.

Belt.

You never knew an old Serving-man treache­rous to his young Master: what? to the hopes o'th' house; you will be heire, that's questionlesse: for to your comfort, your elder brother growes every day more fool then the other. But now the rest of the message is, that you make haste, and come to my Master to the Goat in Covent-Garden, where he dines with his new Landlord to day.

Mi.

He has taken a house then.

Belt.

O, a most delicate one, vvith a curious Belconee and all belonging to't most stately.

Mi.

At the Goat does he dine, sayest thou.

Belt.

Yes sir.

Mi.

My crevv are gone thither too. Pray Mars vve fall not foule of one another. Well, go thy vvay, present my duty to him, I'le follovv presentlie. Tell him I took his money vvith much unvvilling­nesse.

Belt.

As Lavvyers do their fees. Let me alone sir.

Ex.
Mi.

Well Tailor and Shoomaker; you have put me to't, but here's your money.

Shoo.

'Twas for that we did put you to't Sir.

Mi.

Let's see your biil Tailor

Tai.

Here 'tis, sir, as ready as a Watchmans.

Mi.

Then good vvords vvill passe it, 7 li. 4. sh. tell your money; yours is 14 sh. boots and Galloshes. [Page 29] There 'tis and 12. d. to drink.

Shoo.

I thank your vvorship.

Mi.

Are you right Tailor.

Tai.

Yes and please you Sir.

Mi.

There's a shilling for you too, to spend in bread.

Shoo.

He knows both our diets. We'll make bold to take leave of your worship.

Mi.

Not so bold as I'm glad I'm too well rid of you, most courteous Gentlemen.

Ex. Ta. Sh.

To see what money can do; that can change mens manners, alter their conditions: how tempestuous the slaves were without it. O thou powerful metal! what authority is in thee! Thou art the Key to all mens mouthes. With thee a man may lock up the jawes of an informer, and without thee he cannot the lips of a Lawyer.

Ex.

Scoen. II.

Enter Crossewill, Rookesbill, Gabriel, Kathe­rine, Lucy.
Cros.

Down boy, and bid the Cook hasten din­ner.

Dra.

What will you please to drink in the mean time, sir.

Cros.

I will not drink in the mean time, sir, Get you gone.

Dra.

A fine old humorous Gentleman.

Cros.

Hold up your head, Sirrah, and leave your precise folly. I'll leave you to the wilde world else, dee see. Is the name of a Tavern so odious to you? Ha. Your brother has vext me sufficiently alreadie, and perhaps he'll refuse to come too! If he dares let him. Welcome Mr. Rooksbil, welcom Landlord, and your faire daughter, welcome pretty one. Trust [Page 26] me a pretty one indeed, pray be acquainted with my daughter there. In your Maiden-company, I hope she will not think the Tavern such a bugs neast as she did. I had much ado to draw my rebellious chil­dren to the Tavern after me.

Rook.

And truly, sir, 'tis the first to my knowledge that e're my daughter came into.

Cros.

All in good time, she may encrease in ver­tue. But if it be a fault, (as i' my conscience in his thought it is a great transgression) my unsetlednesse, and unprovidednesse else, where or how to entertain a friend, or feed my selfe, may well excuse us all, dee see.

Rook.

O Sir, I cannot enough admire that vertue in your sonne.

Cros.

It is a vice, as much a vice or more, as is your sonnes, your cast-aways as you call him, that sucks no other ai [...]e, then that of Tavernes, Tap­houses, Brothels, and such like. I would their ex­tream qualities could meet each other at half-way, and so mingle their superfluities of humour unto a mean betwixt 'hem. It might render them both al­lowable subjects, where now the one's a firedrake in the aire, and t'other a mandrake in the earth, both mis­chievous, see how he stands like a mole-catcher. What dirty dogged humour vvas I in vvhen I got him troe?

Rookes.

Hovve're his carriage seems distasteful un­to you, I could afford (vvith your allovvance, to make conditions of estate agreeable) to give all that is mine to him vvith my daughter.

[Aside
Cros.

What a mechanick slave is this, to thank a sonne of mine, hovve're I under-rate him, a fit mate to mingle blood vvith his moore-ditch breed. True, his estate is great, I understand it, but of all foule I love not Moor-hens. Such another motion [Page 27] vvould stir me to roare him dovvn the tavern­stairs.

Rooks.

What do you think on't sirs.

Cros.

Heaven grant me patience.

Rooks.

Will you consider of it Master Crosse­will.

Cros.

I was never so put to't. I wish we had a stickler. I muse that Master Cockbrayne stayes thus.

Rooks.

You do not mind my motion sir.

Cros.

Uds precious I minde nothing, I am so crost in mind thar I can minde nothing, nor I will minde nothing, dee see. Why comes not Mr. Cockbrayue, Ha!

Rooks.

Yet you minde him it seems. But he, sir, cannot come, and desires you to hold him excus'd. He's gone about some special undertaking, for the good of the Common-wealth, he sayes.

Cros.

Fart for his undertaking; all the world is bent to crosse me. What is my young Master come? ha!

Enter Belt.
Belt.

My young Master Mr. Mihil will be here presently, he said he would follow me at heeles, sir.

Cros.

And why not come before you, sir. Does he not think that I have waited long enough, sir? sure I'll crosse some body under that knaves pate of yours, d'y'fee.

Belt.

Thus when any body angers him, I am sure to hear on't.

Cros.

So now my spleen is a little palliated, let me speak with you Mr. Rooksbill. Get you down, Sir­rah; and bring me word, dinner is not ready, and I'll give you as much more, d'ye see.

Belt.
[Page 32]

That's his way to his stomach.

Kat.

And is your brother that your father sayes is so ungracious, so well acquainted with my brother Mihil, say you.

Luc.

Oh all in all, he's not so familiar with any man, if Mihil Croswill be your brother, as 'tis mani­fest.

Kat.

I would not that my father knew it, for all I can expect from him but his blessing, but does your father know it?

Luc.

No, I would not he should mistrust it for all he has, blessing and all; and now that I have found you love your brother fo well, I will make over my reason and my counsel in trust with you, hoping you will not wrong that trust.

Kat.

If I do, may the due price of treachery be my reward.

Luc.

I love your brother, Lady, and he loves me. The only good act that ever my brother did, was to bring us acquainted, and is indeed all that he has to live on. For I do succour him with many a stolne peece for the felicitie he brought me in your brothers love. Now, my father, whose irreconcileable hate has for e­ver discarded my brother, should he but dream of their acquaintance, would poison all my hopes.

Kat.

But let me ask you, is there an hope betwixt you and my brother ever to come together?

Luc.

Yes, and a way he has for [...]t, which I under­stand not yet.

Kat.

Trust me, I pity you both, your case is very dangerous.

Luc.

Love's above all adventures, the more hard the atchievement is, the sweeter the reward.

Kat.

I like her spirit well.

Cros.

You Sir, come hither, what is hammering in your head now?

[Page 33] Is't not some Synodical question to put unto the brethren, concerning Whitsonales and Maygames? ha!

Gab.

Surely sir, I was premeditating a fit thanks­giving to be rendred before meat in. Tavernes, accord­ing to the present occasion which the time and place ad­ministreth, and that as the spirit shall enable me, shall be delivered before you in due season.

Cros.

I am glad I know your minde; for that trick, my zealous sonne, you shall come in at half-dinner, like a Chafing-dish of coales, when the sawce is cold, to make use of the heat of your spirit; d ye see. I love not meat twice drest.

Rook.

Good sir, put the Proposition to him, that I made my affection to him, urges it more and more, I never was so taken with a man.

Cros.

But what's that to your daughter? ha!

Rook.

The same affection governes her, she is not mine else.

Cros

Well, hold your peace, and was that your spi­ritual meditation?

Gab.

Yes, verily.

Cros.

Come Sir, at this Gentlemans request I will now put a question to you concerning the flesh. What, think you of yond Virgin there his daughter? can you affect her so well as to wish her to be your wedded wife?

Gab.

You mean, elpoused in holy Matrimony.

Cros.

Yes, I mean so.

Gab.

hum hum hum Psalm tune. How happy.

Cros.

But do thou say, yes verily to that, and as I hope to have peace in my grave. I'll break the Kings peace on thy pate presently.

Gab.

It is a weighty question, and requires due pre­meditation in a religious answer, pray give me leave to take advice—

Rook.
[Page 34]

What sayes he, Sir?

Cros.

He sayes he will talk with a cunning man a­bout her.

Rook.

Sure you mistake him, sir.

Vint.

You are welcome, Gentlemen. Will. Harry, Zachary.

Goat names.
Gab.

Zachary is a good name.

Vint.

Where are you? he (rings the bell) shew up into the Phoenix. Is the Checque empty?

Cross.

Hoyday, here's a din.

Draw.

A pottle of Canarie to the Dolphin, score.

Vint.

Y' are welcome, Gentlemen, take up the lil­lie-pot.

[Knock
Draw.

Half a dozen of clean pipes and a candle for the Elcphant. They take their own Tobaccho.

Pots flie clink.
Vint,

Whose room do they foul Sirrah, Harry, Harry?

(Bell)
Gab.

Do Elephants take Tobaccho?

Vint.

Carry up a Jordan for the Maidenhead, and a quart of white muskadine for the blew Bore.

Run down the staires.
Cros.

Now me thinks, the muskadine for tht Maidenhead, and the Jordan for the Bore were better.

Fiddlers be­low tuning.

Knock aboue, and a pot thrown. Why boyes, draw­er, rogues, take up, (below) By and by, by and by, (above) Wine, Tobaccho.

Cros.

What variety of noises is here? and all excel­lent ill sounds. (Above) Call up the Fidlers, Sirrah.

Gab.

Such cries as these went forth before the deso­lation of the great City.

[Fidling rude tunes.

O prophane tinkling the cymbals of Satan; that tickle the care with vanity, to lift up the mind to lewd­nesse. Mine eares shall be that of the Adder against the Song of the Serpent.

Rook.
[Page 35]

O rare, in a young man!

Gab.

I will roare out aloud to drown your Incan­tations. Yea, I will set out a throat even as the beast that belloweth.

Rook.

Most happy youth!

Cros.

Hold your peace, Sirrah, or I'le make you bel­low for something.

Enter Mihil, Nick.
Mi.

Sfoot-back, Nick to your own room. Thy father's here too, as I breath.

Nick.

I vow?

Ex.
Mi.

My Lucie too, as I live. How the devil got they acquainted? Sure he's his Landlord 'Tis so.

Cros.

Dare you come, sir, you should have stayed now till you had been sent for.

Mi.

Verily, sir.

Cros.

Are you at your Verilies too? ha!

Mi.

But for di [...]pleasing you, I had rather have graz'd on Littletons Commons, or ha' fasted this fourt­night, then come for my repast into this Wildernesse; but you will ha' it so

Cros.

You are in the right Sir, I'le have it so in­deed, I'le know why I shall not else. What do you know no bodie here?

Mi.

I crie them mercie, my good brother,—and my loving sister.

Rook.

But what vertuous men has this man to his sons, and how they thrive in grace against his will, it seems.

Mi.

What Gentlewoman is this of your acquaint­ance, Sister?

Luc.

'Tis well dissembled brother, but I know your cunning.

Mi.

Have you betray'd me?

Luc.
[Page 36]

Mum Mr. Mihil, mum.

Vint.

Harry, Harry.

Enter Drawer hastily.
Draw.

By and by.

Draw.

What devil art thou that roarest in mine eare so.

[Beats the Drawer.
Draw.

Hold, I beseech you, I come to wait upon you.

Cros.

What, with a By and by, that strikes into my head as sharp as a Stellatto.

Draw.

I come to tell you, sir, that your table's co­vered in a fairer Room, and more private, your meat is ready to go up, and all in a readinesse.

Cros.

Now thou art an honest fellow, there's a couple of shillings for thee. Have us out of thy windmil here, I prithee, and thy By and by's.

Exeunt omnes.

Act. III

Scoen 1.

Enter Captain Driblow, Clotpoll, Nick, Anthony, Drawer, A Table, Pot and Glasses.

GO Sirrah, make your reckoning for our din­ner. Leave us this wine, and come when we call you. We have businesse.

Draw.

I shall, sir, by and by.

Capt.

Well, sir, you will be of both you say, the Blade and the Battoon?

Clot.

Of both, sir, by all meanes, both Philoblathi­cus and Philobatticus, I. I'le now have all that be­longs to your order, or all my money again, that's for a certain.

Capt.
[Page 37]

Your money again? loe you there. You bring me a fit man, Gentlemen to be sworn, do you not? that talks of money again, when 'tis a main Article in the Oath, never to look for money again, once disfinger'd.

Nick.

You will not spoil all now 'tis come so far? will you?

Clot.

Well sir, when I have my Oath, and that I am sworn one of you. I'le do as you do, and care as little for money as he that has least.

Capt.

Well, to the Oath then, for both the Bsade and the Battoon you say?

Clot.

I by all meanes, Captain, for both. S'lid the Battoon may stick to me, when the Blade may flie out o'th' Hilts.

Ant.

Yes, to the Brokers.

Capt.

Lay your hands on these Hilts, sir. The Ar­ticles that you depose unto are these, To be true and faithful unto the whole Fraternity of the Blade and the Battoon, and to every member thereof.

Clot.

As ever faithful member was.

Capt.

That at no time, wittingly or ignorantly, drunk or sober, you reveal or make discovery of the Brother, or a member of the Brotherhood, of his lodg­ing, haunts, or by-walks, to any Creditor, Officer, Sut­ler, or such like dangerous or suspitious person.

Clot.

I defie them all.

Capt.

That if any of the Brotherhood be in re­straint or distresse by imprisonment, sicknesse, or whatsoever engagement, you make his case your own, and your purse and your travel his; and that if a bro­ther die or finish his dayes, by end timely or untimelie, by Surfet, Sword, or Law. You wear the sable order of the Riband in remembrance of him.

Clot.

A convenient cheap way of mourning.

Capt.

That your purse and weapon to the utmost [Page 38] of your strength, be on all occasions drawn to the as­sistance or defence of a Brother or Brothers friend, be it he, be it she.

Clot.

I understand you, and shall be as forward to fight for a She-friend, as ever the best man in the mir­rour of Knighthood was for an honest woman.

Capt.

That you be ever at deadly defiance with all such people, as Protections are directed to in Parlia­ment, and that you watch all occasions to prevent or rescue Gentlemen from the gripes of the Law brissons. That you may thereby endear your selfe into noble society, and drink the juice of the Varlets labours for your officious intrusions.

Clot.

And that will go down bravely.

Capt.

You must rank your self so much the better man, by how much the more drink you are able to purchase at others costs.

Clot.

Excellent.

Cupt.

You are to let no man take wall of you, but such as you suppose will either beat you or lend you money.

Clot.

Better and better still.

Capt.

The rest of your duties for brevity sake you shall finde specified in that copy of your Order. Kiss the book.

Clot.

I'le swear to them whatsoever they be.

So, now I am a Blade, and of a better Rowe then those of Tytere tu, or Oatmeal hoe, and so an health to our Fraternity, and in chief to our Noble Captain Driblow.

[Drinks.
Nick. Ant.

Agreed, Agreed.

Capt.

Now are you to practise or exercise your qua­lity on the next you meet that is not of the Brother­hood.

[Page 39] Enter Mihil.
Clot.

Are you one of the Brotherhood sir, of the Philoblathici.

Mi.

I had else lost much sir, I have paid all dues be­longing to it.

Clot.

So have I as I hope to gain honour by't 40 li. thick at least; yet I have this left, please you command the half sir.

Mi.

Another time, your reckoning is not yet paid perhaps.

[Clot. puts his money in his pocket.
Clot.

'Tis the first money of mine that was refus'd since my coming to Town. I shall save infinitely.

I see now that I am sworn. How would I swear to get by it.

Capt.

Take heed of that, Come hither son.

Mi.

How have you screwed this youth up into this humour, that was such a dry miserable Clown but two dayes since.

Nick.

The old way, by watching of him, and keep­ing him high-flown a mattet of fourty eight houres to­gether.

Ant.

Men are apt to beleeve strange fancies in their liquour, and to entertain new opinions.

Mi.

I have fastned three or foure cups upon my precise brother. I would 'twere as many pottles, so it would convert him into the right way of good fel­lowship.

Nick.

I vvould vve could see him, to try vvhat good vve could do upon him.

Ant.

Perhaps vve might convert him.

Mi.

He's above still vvith the old men. I stole from him, but to see if your Italick Mystresse vvere come yet. Your Madam.

Nick.

No, she comes anon; but is my affliction a­bove still.

Mi.
[Page 40]

Thy father? yes

Nick.

Ptithee do not call him my father less he took better courses.

Mi.

And so is thy Sister; the little Rogue looks so squeamishly on me, and I on her, as we had never seen before; but the foolish Ape out of a present affecti­on she has taken to my Sister, has discovered to her the whole discourse of our love, and my familiarity with thee, which were enough to spoile all, if it were discovered to the old folkes, befote my cards were play'd.

Nick.

Well, remember Mr. Mihil, you have pro­mised me half, if the old dogged fellow give her all, and you marry her.

Mi.

Thou canst not doubt me.

Nick

You know I can spoile all when I list, but to shew my countenance in your cause.

Mi.

Such is your vertue, Sir. Well, I'le up to 'em again before I be mist; and when they part, I am for you again.

Ex.
Capt.

I have given you all the rudimenrs, and my most fatherly advices withal.

Clot.

And the last is that I should not swear, how make you that good? I thought now I was sworne into this Brotherhood, I might have sworne what, and as much as I would.

Capt.

That's most unnecessary, for look you son, the best, and even the leudest of my sons do forbear it, not out of conscience, but for very good ends; and in stead of an Oath furnish the mouth with some af­fected Protestation. As I am honest, it is so. I am no honest man if it be not. Ud take me, if I lie to you. Nev'rgo, nev'rstirre, l vow, and such like.

Clot.

Or never credit me or let me never be trusted.

Capt.
[Page 41]

O take heed of that, that may be spoken in so ill an houre, that you may run out of reputati­on, and never be trusted indeed; the other will gaine you credit, and bring you into good and civil estimati­on with your Hostesses; and make 'em terme you a faire conditioned Gentleman if he had it; and truly I never heard worse word come out of his mouth.

Clot.

Nev'r-go, nev'r-stir, I vow. l'le have, I vow then.

Ant.

I vow, but you shall not, that's mine.

Clot

Cann't you lend it me now and then brother? I'le have, I swear then, and come as nigh swearing as I can.

Nick.

I swear but you must not, that's mine you know.

Clot.

I protest then, I'le have I protest, that's a Ci­ty-word, and best to cozen with.

Clot.

Come boyes, fall to some practice, Let me see about at the new French balls, sprung out of the old English vapours

Clot.

I protest come on. I'le make a third man.

Ant.

Whose man are you?

Nick.

Whose man is not to be asked, nor scarce whose subject, now he is of our Brotherhood.

Clot.

Yes, by your favour he may ask.

Ant.

I ask no favour, sir.

Nick.

That may be granted.

Clot.

You can grant nothing in this kinde.

Ant.

I vow he may grant any thing of any kinde.

Nick.

I swear, I neither can, nor will grant that.

Clot.

That, I protest, may bear exception in­deed.

Ant.

Exceptions amongst us? nay, then I vow.—

Nick.

I swear.

Clot.
[Page 42]

And I protest—

[Up with their Battoons
Capt.

Part faire my boyes; 'tis very well per­form'd; now drink a round to qualifie this bout.

Enter Cockbrain.
All.

Agreed on all parts.

Cock.

Look upon me ye Common-wealths men now, like a State-Surgeon, while I search and try

The ulcerous coare of foule enormitie.
These are a parcel of those venomous weeds,
That ranklie pester this faire Garden-plot.
Whose boisterous growth is such, that I must use
More policie then strength to reach their root,
And hoist them up at once.
This is my way to get within 'em.
Ant.

So, 'tis gone round.

Nick.

I muse these Mumpers come not.

Clot.

Best send a boy.

Nick.

Drawer, ha! where be those Rascalls? (Within) By and by.

Nick.

Are you one of 'em, sir?

Cock.

I am one that has the favour of the house, sir?

Nick.

To intrude into Gentlemens privacies? ha!

Cock.

To seek a poor living and 't please you, by picking up the crums of your liberalitie, for the use of my rare qualities.

Nick.

And what's your qualitie?

Cock.

It is to speak or sing ex tempore upon any Theame, that your fancie or the present occasion shall administer.

Nick.

Can you drink before you lay your lips to't

[Glasse in's face.
Cock.

O my weak eye-sight.

Clot.
[Page 43]

Or can you eate a crust without chawing, made of the Flower of Battoon.

Cock.

O good Gentlemen, forbear, I beseech you.

Clot.

The flower of Battoon. I protest a good jest, and 'twas mine own before I was aware, for he had the Maidenhead or first-blow of my Battoon. Nay, it shall down.

Cock.

I will not yet desist; but suffer private affli­ction with a Romane resolution for the publike wel­fare, with full assurance that my fortitude shall at last get within 'em.

Nick.

You are not satisfied, i [...] seems, you Rascal, get you gone.

[Kicks him.
Ant.

Phew! beat not the poor fellow so.

Clot.

Let me come to him again, and flesh my self upon him. I will not only flesh my self, but tire up­on him.

Cock.

Enough, enough, good Gentlemen, you have beaten me enough of conscience. Was ever good Pa­triot so rudely handled? but the end crowns all.

Capt.

Forbear him sons. What canst thou be, that canst not be satisfied with beating? speak, art a man or a Ghost?

Cock.

I have been, Sir, a man, and of my hands, howe're misfortune humbles me under your man­hoods. But I have seen the face of warre, and serv'd in the Low-countreys, though I say't, on both sides.

Clot.

Then 'tis impossible this fellow can be beat out of countenance.

Mick.

We'll leave him in his qualiry for that con­stant vertue.

Capt.

Sure, 'tis Fenner or his Ghost. He was a ri­ming souldier. Look, do his eyes stand right?

Cock.

They had a dish e'ne now, sir.

Nick.
[Page 44]

Of sack, 'tis true here, take another, and wash the inside of your Throat. And let us hear your pipes in their right tune.

Cock.

Give me a Theam Gentlemen.

Nick.

The praise of sack. Sing the praise of sack.

Ant.

Let it be of the Blade.

Clot.

And the Battoon, I beseech you.

Draw.

Do you call, Gentlemen?

Nick.

I vow, I will have sack.

Draw.

T'other quart of Canarie? you shall.

[Takes pot.
Nick.

Are your eares so quick? I vow, I'le dull 'em.

Draw.

Anon, anon.

Nick.

I say, a song of Sack.

Capt.

I, let it be of Sack.

Nick.

Now you pump, do you?

Cock.

No, sir, but think of a tune.

Clot.

If he can pump us up a spring of Sack, we'll keep him, and break half the Vintners in Town.

(Song. Now B. and Clot. askes Gabriel, Are you a b [...]other. They fall in the burthen.)
Nick.

I vow, well-said.

Ant.

I swear, 'twas well.

Clot.

I protest the best that I have heard in this kind. I wonder at his ability. I prithee, art not ac­quainted with my two Poetical Drury-lane Writers? the Cobler and the Tapster.

Cock.

No sir, not I, I work not their way. What I do is ex tempore after the Theme given.

Cock.

But they run quite before you. Their Works are in print sometimes▪ and ready to be sung about streets, of men that are hang'd before they come to the Gallowes.

Ant.

But did not Mihil say he would come again.

Nick.
[Page 45]

I marvel at his stay.

Clot.

I, and the Mumpers, when come they? I long to see the Sisters, now I am a brother sworn and entred.

Enter Pig.
Nick.

O here comes news. How now pig?

Pig.

You must all presentlie to the Paris Tavern.

Nick.

Must? at whose suit!

Pig.

Mr. Mihil bade me tell you so.

Ant.

Is he gone from hence?

Pig.

He is, and all his gone and dispersed.

Nick.

Then the old Jew my father's gone.

Pig.

Only there's one delicate demure Gentleman with Mr. Mihil. travell'd along with him towards Pa­ris. I believe he meanes to make a mouth of him.

Nick.

O, 'tis his precise brother. But vvhere's thy Mystresse, and Madama Damaris? that they come not.

Pig.

They desire to meet you there too, 'tis more private.

Ant.

Avvay vve'll follovv thee.

Clot.

Pig, hovv does thy father Hog, the Turkie Merchant?

Pig.

I am in haste, Sir.

Ex.
Ant.

Why Turkie Merchant?

Pig.

Because he trades in nothing but Turkie commodities; Egges and Concubines; 'tvvere vvell to geld him, and send him to the Grand Seignior, to vvait in his Seraglio.

Enter Dravver.
Nick.

Thou hast such a vvit in this Clotpoll of thine. The Reckoning Drawer.

Draw.
[Page 46]

Here, here, Sir; here's your bill.

Capt.

Let see the summe. What is't Drawer? 40. sh. and 3. d. Si, your dinner, and what you had since, in all, sir.

Capt,

'Tis very reasonable, Commend me to thy Master. Son Clotpoll pay't. It is your duty.

Clot.

Yes, for my Brothership.

Capt.

Boyes, I must leave you.

Cock.

40. sh. for foure mens dinners, note that, yet he sayes 'tis reasonable.

Draw.

Good Captain, He was ever the fairest Reckoner, though he has never the luck to pay any thing.

Ant.

Fare you well, father.

Nick.

When we have further occasion, we'll re­pair to your lodging.

Clot.

At Bloomesbury. Father, I know.

Cock.

Bloomsbury? good, I note it.

Capt.

Sirrah, look to the second Article of your Oath.

Clot.

Against discovery of lodgings, haunts, or by-walks, I am warn'd.

Capt.

Look that you be so.

Ex. Capt.
Nick.

40. sh. and 3. d. you'l bate the 3. d. will you not?

Draw.

We'll not much stand for that Sir, though our Master sits at deare rent.

Nick.

Give me your two peeces.

Ant.

Pray let me see the bill before you pay it.

Nick.

Well, I can hold it then.

Ant.

Bread and beer, 1. sh. 4. d. I do not think we four could eat 3. d. of bread, and for my part, I drank but two glasses of beer.

Nick.

And I but one, Ivow.

Clot.

And my father and I but one betwixt us, I protest.

Draw.
[Page 47]

Ha' you no men below?

Nick.

Below the earth doest mean? I am sure we have none above-ground.

Draw.

I know not, Gentlemen, there's so much reckon'd at the bar, and you please you may see it.

Ant.

Nay, an't be at the bar, it stands for Law. Well, wine 5 sh. 9. d. I think we had no lesse. A Shoulder of Mutton stuff't with Oysters 8. sh. that cost your Master very near ten groats, a brace of Par­tridge 5. sh. a couple of Cocks 4. sh. 6. d. a dozen of Larks 20. d. Anchovis 6. sh. I swear but a Sawcer full.

Draw.

I'le be sworne they are so much reckon'd in the Kitch [...]n.

Ant.

All's law, I tell you, all's law in Tavernes. But I hope there will be a law for you one o'these dayes. Then is their Fruit and Cheese, Tobaccho, Fire, and I know not what, is't right cast.

Cock.

There is more hope of that young man, then of all the rest, indeed it is a sore abuse, another verie weed in the city. I do note that also.

Nick.

Sirrah, before you have your money, fetch me a glasse of Beere. But canst thou sing this upon a­ny subject.

Cock.

Any sir, any, an't be till midnight.

Ex.
Nick.

But you have strange helps to your inventi­on. I did note the rolling o' th' eye, and rubbing your Brows sometimes.

Clot.

So did I, I protest, and therefore, I tell you what. If he can sing such another Song, and look stedfastly the while upon any thing, and hold his hands behind him. I'le give him half a crown; if not, he shall ha' nothing for tother.

Cock.

Agreed Gentlemen, give me your Theme.

Ant.

You shall give it him.

Nick.
[Page 48]

And withal, watch him if he stir hand or eye, especially the eye.

Clot.

I will I protest, and set mine eye against his, that he shall not twink, but I'le perceive it, and lay him o're the pare.

Cock.

Well Sir, your Theme.

Clot.

In praise of the Battoon, and if you misse it you shall be sure on't.

Cock.

You'll help me with the burthen, Gentle­men.

Nick.

Yes, yes, for the more grace of the Song.

Clot.

Take you no care for that. Set your eyes and begin.

SONG.
To prove the Battoon the most noble to be.
Of all other weapons observe his degree,
In Field to be Leader of all other Armes,
To conquest and honour, through hazard and harms.
The Gallant and Peasant, the Lord and the Lowne.
Must move by the motion of the Leaders Battoon.
O give me the Battoon.
The Pike and the Halbert are subject to it.
The Ensigne, the Partizan, all must submit,
To advance, or retire, fall back, or come on.
As they are directed by the Leaders Battoon.
Then it is to the Souldier the greatest Renown,
To purchase by service to bear the Battoon.
O give me the Battoon.
Clot.

Marry, and take it Sir, why do you stare a­bout? though you have broke Covenant, I have not.

Cock.

Where be the Gentlemen?

Clot.
[Page 49]

Ha! they are not gone, I hope, where be my brothers Drawer.

Enter Drawer.
Draw.

Gone sir, and have sent me to you for the reckoning.

Clot.

I protest you jest, do you not? I gave 'em the full summe, and all the money I had, I protest, I swear, I vow, now they are not here, I may make bold with their words. They have my money, I am sure.

Draw.

If you have no money, pray leave a pawne, sir.

Clot.

Take him there, put him in a cage, and let him sing it out.

Draw.

We know him not, sir.

Clat.

No? he said he had the favour of the house to sing to Gentlemen.

Cock.

I feare I shall be discovered, sir, I can give your worship credit for a peece till you come to your lodging.

Clot.

Protest, thou art generous; nay, I know where to finde'em; and thou shalt go with me to 'em, we will not part now, wee'll shoune 'em. I vow, (the words out) here, I'le leave my sword for t'other peece.

Draw.

Your sword will not serve, sir, I doubt.

Clot.

Take my coat too, a friend and a Battoon is better then a coat and a sword at all times.

Cock.
I am glad my feare is over. And after all my sufferings, if at last
Cock braine crow not these roaring Lions down,
Let him be balladed about the Town.
Ex. omnes.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Lucie, Katharine, Belt.
Luc.

Let me now bid you welcome to my fathers house, where till your own be fitted, though my father keep too private a family to expresse large entertain­ment, yet I hope at worst you shall ha' convenient lodging.

Kat.

Indeed, I am glad that my father yielded to your fathers friendly request in it; and the more, in regard he is so hard to be entreated to any thing; but especially for your societies sake, sweet Sister. In­deed I'le call you Sister alwayes, and I hope you shall be shortly in my brother Mihils right.

Luc.

I have laid open my heart to you, which in­deed is his, but your father, I feare, will never be wonne.

Kat.

Why you would not have him too, Sister, would you?

Luc.

His consent I would, and my fathers, I hope, would easily be wrought. You saw he was willing your other brother should have me at the first sight, meerly for his reservednesse, and Mihil methought carried himself as civil to day as he; I mean, as ci­villy for a Gentleman, that should not look like one fathers of the Dutch Church at five and twenty.

Kat.

He was put to't to day. The noise of the Tavern had almost wrought his zeale in [...]o fury, it is scarce out of my head yet.

Luc.

But you were about to tell me how he first fell into this veine, this vanity indeed.

Kat.

I'le tell you now, and in that something worth your observation.

Luc.

I will observe you.

Kat.

My father has an humour, not to like any thing at first, nor accept best courtesies of friends, [Page 51] though presently he findes 'em most commodious to him; things that he knows not how to be without, and oftentimes desires with the same breath the things he vilisied, and scorn'd them the last syllable he spake before. You saw when your father offered him the use of his house here, till his own be furnished, he cried, hah [...] are all the houses in the Town yours Sir; and yet presently entreated for't, and thanked him.

Luc.

That shews the best nature, they say.

Kat.

But that is seldome attended by the best fortune. Nay, in us, I mean, his children, he will like nothing, no, not those actions which he him­self cannot deny are vertuous; he will crosse us in all we do, as if there were no other way to shew his power over our obedience.

Luc.

'Tis a strange fatherly care.

Kat.

Now, note the punishment that followes it. There's not a chil [...]e he has, [...]hough we all know what we do, that make any conscience of crossing him, we have so much of his good nature in us.

Luc.

And that's as odde a duty in children.

Kat.

I must confesse it is a stubbornnesse.

Yet for the most part we do nothing, but that which most Parents would allow in their children: and now for my brother Gabriel, with whom I must bring in the story of another Kinswoman of ours, my father had at home with us.

Luc.

So.

Kat.

Nay, mark, I pray you, as I would entreat an Auditorie, if I now were a Poet to mark the Plot, and several points of my play, that they might not say when 'tis done, they understood not this or that, or how such a part came in or went out, because they did not observe the passages.

Luc.

Well on, I pray.

Kat.

My brother Gabriel, when he was a boy, nay, [Page 52] till within these two yeares, vvas the wildest unta­med thing that the countrey could possibly hold.

Luc.

So he is still for ought I know, for I think no man of his Religion in his wits.

Kat.

I mean in outvvard conversation, he vvas the Ring-leader of all the youthful Frie, to Faires, to Wakes, to May-games, footbal-matches, any thing that had but noise and tumult in it; then he was Captain of the young train-band, and exercised the youth of tvventy parishes in martial discipline. O he did love to imitate a souldier the best,—and so in every thing, that there vvas not an handsom maid in an whole County could be quiet for him.

Luc.

He may be good at that sport still, for there is almost none of his sect holds any other game lavvful.

Kat.

Yet did he bear the civillest aud the best or­dered affection to our Kinsvvoman I spake of.

Luc.

Yes, I remember.

Kat.

So loving to her person, so tender of her ho­nour that nothing but too near affinity of blood could have kept them asunder.

Luc.

And she did love him as vvell!

Kat.

O dearly, vertuously vvell; but my father fearing vvhat youth in heat of blood might do, re­moves my brother Gabriel from home into the ser­vice of a Reverend Bishop to follovv good ex­amples.

Luc.

But he learned not to be a Puritane there I hope.

Kat.

You shall hear, Sister, soon after came a Gal­lant into the countrey from London here, and as vve after found, a Citizens sonne, though he shevved like a Lord there. Briefly, he grevv acquainted vvith my brother Mihil. Then vvoo'd and vvonne my [Page 53] Cousin so secretly, my father never suspected, nor he nor I e're knevv vvhose son he vvas, nor of vvhat occupation my old lord his father vvas; but he pro­mis'd her marriage, clap't her, you may guesse vvhere, and so like the slippery Trojan left her.

Euc.

O divellish Rascal!

Kat.

And foolish creature, she vvho soon repented it, and vvith her shame is fled to vvhat part of the vvorld vve knovv not.

Luc.

In truth 'tis pitiful, that villain vvould be hang'd.

Kat.

Novv upon this, my poor brother that lov'd her so, fell into discontent, forsook his lord, and vvould have left the Land, but that he vvas prevented and brought home.

Luc.

And ever since he has been thus religious.

Kat.

Thus obstinate, for I think verily he does it but to crosse my father, for sending him out of the vvay vvhen the mischief vvas done.

Luc.

I vvill not then beleeve 'tis Religion in any of the gang of 'em, but meer vvilful affectation. But vvhy, or vvherein do you or Mihil. crosse your fa­ther.

Kat.

I tell you Sister vve must. He is so crosse him­self, that vve shall never get any thing of him that we desire, but by desiring the contrary.

Luc.

Why then do you desire him to get you an hus­band?

Kat.

Because he should get me none. O Sister, both he and Mr. Cockbrayne, can vvish novv that I had had his son.

Luc.

There's another youth novv gone on love's pilgrimage, e're since your father crosthim in your love not to be heard of.

Kat.

Hush! the old men.

[Page 54] Enter Rooksbill, Croswill.
Rook.

In good truth sir, I am taken with your con­versation. I like it now exceeding well.

Cros.

I'm glad it pleases you.

Rook.

'Tis very faire and friendly, I finde we shall accord.

Cros.

I am glad I have it for you Sir, I pray, make bold with it.

Ro [...]k.

Then pray sir, let me urge my motion a little further to you.

Cros,

What is't? you cannot utter it so easily as I shall grant it, out with it man.

Rook.

That you will be pleased to accept my daugh­ter for either of your sons, your youngest if you please, now I have seen him, I'le give him with her presently, either in hand a thousand pound, and five hundred pound a childe as fast as he can get 'em. And all I shall die seiz'd of.

Cros.

What a Dogbolt is this to think that I should get a childe for him.

Rook.

I hope you do think well on't.

Luc.

Pray love he does. I hope so too.

Kat.

I mark his Answer.

Luc.

I could finde in my heart to ask his good-will my selfe.

Kat.

And that were a sure way to go without it.

Rook.

How say you, sir, is't a match?

Cros.

I will not stay a minute in thy house, though I lie in the street for [...]t.

Huswife, I'le sort you with f [...]tter companions, Come, follow me quickly.

Rook.

H [...]aven blesse me and my childe too from matching with such a disposition.

Kat.

Truly, sir, I long'd to be out o th' house be­fore.

Cros.
[Page 55]

Before you came in it did you not? ha!

Kat.

These new walls do so stink of the lime me­thinks.

Cros.

Marry fough, Gooddie Foyst.

Kat.

There can be no healthie dwelling in 'em this twelve-moneth yet.

Cros.

Are you so tender bodied?

Rook.

Even please your selves then where you can like better, and you shall please me.

Cros.

Why you will not thrust me out of your house, will you? ha!

Rook.

There's no such haste, sir.

Cros.

Indeed there is not, nor will I out for all your haste neither. I'le have look to my bargain.

Rook.

With all my heart, sir.

Cros.

But no more of your idle motions, if you love your ease in your house, your [...]n here.

Enter Belt.

Here's a letter, sir, from Mr. Cockbrayne.

Cros.

Is the earer paid, or give him that an't please you.

Belt.

Some body has anger'd him, and I must suffer.

Cros.

I sent you to seek my sons, good sir, have you found 'em? ha!

Belt.

I cannot finde 'em sir. They went out of the Tavern together, they say, and I have been at Mr. Mihils chamber, and there they are not. I went to the Tavern again, and there they were not. [...]hen I beat all the rest o'th' bushes, in this four est of foo es and mad men, and cannot finde em I, where e're they be.

Cros.

Sirrah, go finde em me where e're they be, a­ny where, or no where, finde 'em, and finde 'em [Page 56] quickly; I'le finde 'em in your Cockscombe else, d' ye see! and bring my sons Sanctity home before it be dark, lest he take up his lodging in a Church-porch; and charge Mr. Mihil that he come not to me till I send for him. Here's danger i'th' house. There was a match-motion indeed.

Rook.

Good sir, either like my house well, or be pleas'd to please your self with some better.

Cross.

Pray Sir, be quiet in your house, lest I send you out of it to seek another. Let me see my cham­ber.

Rook.

He must have his way, I see.

Ex. omnes.

Act. IV.

Scoen. 1.

Enter Bettie, Frank, with swords drawn make fast the doors.
Bett.
NAy, you perpetual Pusse, I'le fetch him out of the very bowels of thee.
Fran.

He never came so deep himself yet with all that he could do, and I scorne the threatning of a She Marmaset.

Nick.

(Within) why Bettie, Frank, you mankinde Carions you. I vow, open the door, will you both kill one another, and cozen the Hangman of his fees?

Bett.

Thou hadst been better have bit off the dugs of thy Damme, thou pin-buttock Jade thou, than have snapt a bit of mine from me.

Fran.

Here's that shall stay your stomack better then the bit you snarle for. Thou greedy Brach thou.

Nick.
[Page 57]

(Within) why wenches, are ye wild? break open the doores.

Bett.

That I could split that divellish tongue of thine!

Fran.

I have as good a spight at as ill a member about thee.

Enter Nick, Anthony.
Nick.

Hold, what's the devil in ye.

Ant.

Are ye so sharp-set ye Amazonian Trulls?

Belt.

Let me but make one passe at her.

Fran.

Pray let me go, and let her come.

Nick.

Can no blunter tooles then these serve to take down your furies?

Bett.

Let me come but within nailes reach of het.

Fran.

Let me but try the strength of my teeth upon her.

Nick.
As Hector 'twixt the hosts of Greece and Troy,
When Paris and the Spartane King should end
Their nine yeares warres, held up his brazen lance.
In signal, that both Armies should surcease,
And hear him speak. So let me crave your audience.
Dear Bettie be advis'd, and Frank, forbear
Thy thirst of Sisters blood. Whilest I rip up
The folly of your strife. Your cases both
Have been laid open to me. You contend
For love of a lewd Citizen, that sleights,
Nay more, disdaines, nay more, desies you both.
Tony can tell, Mun Clotpoll also knows
The words he spake, that you were both poor whores,
Not poor alone, but foule infectious harlots.
And that he wears your mark with pain and sorrow,
Hopelesse to claw them off. With constant purpose
Never to see you more, unlesse to greet.
[Page 58] Your bumpin buttocks with revengeful feet.
Bet.

Did he say so?

Fran.

And must we two fall out for such a slander­ous Villain?

Ant.

No, agree, agree.

Nick.

Busse and be friends. Busse, or I'le baste ye both, I vow.

Bet.

Come Sister we'll be in for ever now.

Fran.

For my part, Sister, sure I was not out with you.

Bet.

But did he say he would kick us?

Ant.

Lo here, the man that dares it not deny.

Enter Citizen, Drawer.
Cit.

But do ye hear, Gentlemen. I hope you will use me kindlier then so.

Nick.

Than how, Sir?

Cit.

Then to win all my money, and leave me at stake for the reckoning. Pray do you pay the Drawer for me, though I pay it you again.

Ant.

What is it Drawer?

Draw.

The Gentlewomen and he had 14. sh. in before you came.

Nick.

'Tis a plain case, your cloak must answer it at the bar, Sir. Drawer, away with it.

Exit Drawtr with Cloke.
Cit.

Nay, but Gentlemen.

Nick.

I vow, do but look after it, till we be gone, and these shall claw thine eyes out.

Cit.

Well sir, I hope this quarter will not be al­wayes lawlesse.

Ant.

Do you grumble? Mr. C [...]ffelesse.

Nic.

I vow you shall have cu [...]es.

Bet.

Yes, that you shall.

Fran.

Cuts and slashes too before we part, Sir.

Cit.
[Page 59]

You will not murder me, will you?

Nick.

Damosels forbear; and you, forbear your noise. I vow, I'le slit your wistle else. You shall give him due correction civilly, and we will make him take it civilly. Sit you down Sir.

Cit.

What will you do with me?

Nick.

I vow, mum.

Enter Clotpoll, Cockbraine,
Clot.

O, are ye here! was it a brotherly trick do ye think, to leave me to pay one reckoning twice? or did I think never to be made a mouth more, after I had paid my swearing dinner, and am I now a greater mouth then e're I was?

Nick.

Mum, hold your tongue still in your mouth, lest I halifax it with your teeth.

Clot.

Halifax my tongue. And listen to a businesse.

Nick.

Do yon know this man?

Clot.

Yes, the City mouth we had tother night.

Nick.

These are the Sisters that his lavish tongue so lewdly did deprave.

Clot.

I cry them heartily mercy Are you of the sweet Sisterhood? I hope to know you all, all the pretty Mumpers in the berrie here, before I have done. 'Tis true, I protest, he spake words of you, that such flesh and blood could not bear. He could not have spoken worse of mutton of a groat a quarter.

Bet.

And were we so fond to fight for him?

Fran.

But now we'll both be revenged upon the flesh of him.

Cit.

Pray let me speak with you.

Nick.

No, they shall beat you first. And mark me well. Do thou but stir an hand or foot, or raise a voice that may be heard to the next room, well cut thy weasand. Now wenches take your course.

Bet.
[Page 60]

Nay, you slave, we'll mark you for a Sheep­biter.

Fran.

We'll teach you how to scandalize.

Bet.

Have I given you that you cannot claw off, you Mungrel.

Clot.

Rare, I protest.

Ciot.

—oh—oh—oh.

Nick.

There, there.

Fran.

We'll claw thine eares off rather.

Cit.

—oh—oh—oh.

Clot.

O brave.

Cock.

O out-rage, most insufferable, all this goes into my black book.

Nick.

To him Bettie, at him Frank; there whores, there.

Ant.

Fie, fie, forbear, enough, too much in con­science.

Cock.

That young man has some pity yet.

Ant.

I swear you shall no more.

Cock.

Alas, good Gentlemen, it is enough.

Nick.

I vow, do you prate? you shall have as much. Come, take the Chaire, Sir, the breeches shall bait him too.

Cock.

O good Gentlemen.

Nick.

I vow, they shall. To him and claw him, I'le clapperclaw your sides else

Cock.

O me! what mean you?

Bett.

Heyday! his beard comes off.

Ant.

And his head too What rotten scab is this?

Clot.

I protest, they have pulled my pieced brother in pieces here.

Nick.

I vow, some disguiz'd villain, and but for do­ing the State so good service, we would hang him pre­sently without examination.

Ant.

I know him. And you shall not touch him. Best is, he knows nor me. Good Heaven, what Brain­trick has possest him.

Nick.
[Page 61]

I vow, what canst thou be?

Ant.

Come, 'tis an honest fellow, that is only a­sham'd to run so base a course for his living in his own face. Poor man, I warrant his feare threatens his breeches shrewdly. But let's away, and quickly, our stay is dangerous. Come, we forgot Mich. Croswil and the wenches.

Nick.

Come all away then, Sirrah, thank this Gentleman, and pray for him at the end of your Songs hereafter.

Clot.

Farewel, friend Peece. I'le know you better now, before you have't again.

Ex. omnes but Cock. and Cit.
Cock.

What monsters in mankinde? what hell-hounds are they? only as Ovid feign'd among the Getes. A friend at need, I with a friend was blest, Whom I may gratifie, and plague the rest. How is it with you, Sir?

Cit.

O, I am very sore.

Cock.

Indeed you are sorely handled. This may warne you out of such caterwaling company. You look like one more civil. And in hope you will be so, I'le bring you to a Barber.

Cit.

Alas, my Cloke.

Cock.

I'le help you to that too, so you with me, Will in an honest plot Assistant be.

Cit.

O Sir, in any thing, and thank you too, Sir.

Exeunt Ambo.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Mihil, Gabriel, Boy, Wine, &c.
Mih.

A Paris ill ya ben veni- Here's no bush at this door, but good wine rides post upon't, I mean, the sign-post. Boy, get you down, and if Nick Rooksbill, or any of his company ask for me, bring 'em up, d'ye hear.

Boy.
[Page 62]

I will, I will, Sir.

Ex.
Mi.

You are welcome to Paris brother Gabriel.

Gab.

It is neverthelesse a Tavern, brother Mihil, and you promised and covenanted with me at the last house of noise and noisomnesse, that you would not lead me to any more Tavernes.

Mih.

Lead you brother? men use to be led from Tavernes sometimes. You saw I did not lead you nor bring you to any that was more a Tavern then the last, nor so much neither; for here is no Bush you saw.

Gab.

'Twas that betrayed and entrapped me: but let us yet forsake it.

Mih.

Pray let us drink first brother. By your leave here's to you.

Gab.

One glasse-full more is the most that I can bear. My head is very full, and laboureth with that I have had already.

Mi.

There Sir, I'le undertake one good fellow, that has but just as much Religion as will serve an honest mans turne, will bear more wine then ten of these gid­dy-braind Puritanes, their heads are so full of whim­seys.

Gab.

'Tis mighty headie, mighty headie, and truly I cannot but think that the over much abuse of these out-landish liquors, have bred so many errours in the Romish Church.

Mih.

Indeed brother, there is too much abuse made of such good creatures. Wine in it self is good, you will grant, though the excesse be nought; and Ta­vernes are not contemptible, so the company be good.

Gab.

It is most true, we finde that holy men have gone to Tavernes, and made good use of 'em upon their Peregrinations.

Mi.

And cannot men be content to take now and [Page 63] then a cup, and discourse of good things by the way. As thus. Brother, here's a remembrance (if she be li­ving, and have not lost her honour) to our Cousin Dore as.

Gab.

O that kinswoman of ours. She was the dear­est losse that e're fell from our house.

Mi.

Pledge her, good brother.

Gab.

I do—

Mi.

I hope 'twill maudlenize him.

Gab.

But have you never seen that miscreant that wrong'd her, since he did that same, they say you knew him.

Mi.

Alas, suppose I had, what could be done? she's lost we see. What good could she receive by any course against him.

Gab.

It had been good to have humbled him, though into the knowledge of his Trans [...]ression. And of himself for his soules good, either by course of Law, or else in case of necessity, where the Law promiseth no releefe, by your own right hand you might have smote him, smote him with great force, yea, smote him unto the earth, until he had prayed that the evil might be taken from him.

Mih.

This is their way of loving enemies, to bear 'em into goodnesse. Well, brother, I may meet with him again, and then I know what to do. If he knew him as I do now, what a religious combate were here like to be at Nicks coming.

Enter Boy.

Sir, here's a Gentlewoman asks for Mr. Rooks­bill.

Mih.

The travell'd Gallant, is't not.

Boy.

Yes sir, and the old black party, her Land lady with her. But they ask for no body but him, sir.

Mih.
[Page 64]

Say he is here by all meanes, and bring 'em up.

Ex. Boy.
Gab.

Women! pray brother lets avoid the place, let us flie it. What should we do with women in a Ta­vern?

Mih.

No harme assure your selfe, cannot we go­vern ourselves?

Enter Dorcas and Madge, and start back.
Nay,

Lady, stay, he will be here presently, that you look for.

Gab.

I will not glance an eye toward tempta­tion.

Mih.

I am amaz'd sure, I have seen this face, howe're your habit and the course of time may give't another seeming.

Dorc.

Good Angels, help my thoughts and memo­ry. It is my Kinsman Mihil. What's the other that hides his face, so?

Mih.

Do you turn away?

Dorc.

It is my Cousin Gabriel, strangely altered.

Mih.

Come hither you. I [...]le make a little bold with you. Thou that hast been a concealer of more sins in womens actions, then thou hast grizled hairs.

Dorc.

Sure I will speak to him, he alwayes lov'd me.

Mih.

Reveale a truth to me on my demand, now instanrly, without premeditation. I'le cut thy tongue out else.

Mad.

What's here to do? do you think I am a devil? that you make such conjurations over me.

Mih.

I think thou art as true a servant of his as any Bawd can be. But he now if thou darest. How long have you known that Gentlewoman? and what do you know by her?

Dorc.
[Page 65]

Sir.

Mad.

Here's a stirre about nothing. I know no­thing by her, not [...]. Nor whether she has any thing or nothing, that a woman should have by the re­port of knowledge of man, woman or beast, not I. She came to me but this morning, with a purpose to set me up in my new house as I hoped. But she has taken a course to make it honestly spoken of already, to my utter undoing, but she never comes within my doors again, as I hope to thrive by my Trade here­after.

Dorc.

Pray look upon me, sir.

Mih.

Was she so resolutely bent, and so soon al­tered?

Mad.

Upon the very first fight of the very first man that came into my house, the very first houre of my setting up in it.

Mih.

What man was that?

Mad.

A shame take him, your roaring friend, Nick. I think she is enamoured of him, or of something she guesses he has; and would faine play the honest woman with him, that never played honest man with woman in his life.

Mih.

'Tis she, and 'tis most wonderful.

Dorc.

If you knew who I were, you would not be so strange to me.

Mad.

And here she comes me a hunting after him, like a fondling, whilest halfe a dozen peeces might ha' been gotten at home by this time, aud she have had the halfes of it in her purse by this time; if she would have done, as I thought, she would have done by this time.

Mih.

Alas, poor Howlet.

Mad.

I sent whooping after the best guest that haunt my house, to have taken the first fruits of her conversation, and she would not see a man of 'em, to my undoing.

Mih.
[Page 66]

Well leave thy hooting, Madge, and hold thy peace. thou shalt get by it.

Mad.

Yes, I shall get a good name shortly, and this geare hold, and turn begger, I shall.

Dor.

Pray sir, but one word.

Mih.

Speak to her, brother, 'tis our Cousin Dor­cas.

Gab.

Will you abuse me too? is she not lost?

Mih.

And will not you give her leave to be found again? his wine and her sudden apprehension works on him at once. Cousin, I'le speak to you, though I confesse the miracle of our meeting thus ama­zes me.

Dorc.

O Cousins both. As ye are Gentlemen, and of that noble stock, whose meer remembrance, when he was given up, and at the brink of desperate folly, stroke that reverend fear into my soul, that hath pre­serv'd my honour from further falling. Lend me now your aide, to vindicate that honour by that man, that threw me in the way of losse and ruine.

Mih.

All shall be well, good Cousin, you shall have both hands and hearts to re-estate you in him. So that in fact you have not wrong'd that ho­nour, since he forsook you.

Dorc.

On my soule I have not.

Mih.

Infants then shall be pardoned. Brother speak.

Dorc.

You were wont still to be my loving'st Cou­sin.

Gab.

What a strange dream has wine wrought in my head.

Mih.
I hope it will work out his superfluous zeale.
And render him civil Christian again.
Dor.
It is no dream, good Cousin, you are awake,
And I, that Dorcas, for whom you have wish't
Affinity of blood might be dispen [...]'d with. And you [Page 67] to be my choice. So well you lov'd me.
Gab.

And will above my life affect you still. But you must leave these gauds and prophane dres­sings.

Mad.

Bawds did he say? how comes he to know me troe?

Dorc.
How came my Cousin Gabriel thus tran­slated.
Out of gay cloathes long haire, and lofty spirit,
Stout and brave action, manly carriage;
Into so strict a Reformation?
Where is the martial humour he was wont so to affect.
Mih.

His purity and your disgrace fell on you both about a time, I faith.

Gab.

Do you swear by your FAITH?

Mi.

He's falling back again.

Boy.
Some more wine. You will drink with our
Cousin, brother, will you not?
Boy.

What wine is't, Gentlemen?

Gab.

Yes, in a cup of sincere love.

Boy.

What other wine you please, Gentlemen, we have none such i [...]th' house.

Mih.

Of the same we had, sir.

Dorc.

Call not for wine for us, Cousin.

Mad.

Assuredly, we are no prophane wine-bibbers, not we.

Gab.

Modest, and well-spoken verily, she should be a Sister or a Matron.

Mih.

Yes, yes, we'll all drink for the good o'th' house.

'Tis upon putting down, they say, and more o'th neighbours. But Cousin, he knew you not to day.

Dor.

No, nor dreams of me.

Mih.

And the old one knowes nothing, does she.

Dorc.

No, by no meanes.

Mih.
[Page 68]

She can bewray nothing then. My brother knows not him. I only do for his faire Sisters fake, of which you may hear more hereafter; in the mean, bear your selfe faire and free, as if you knew him not, and I'le work him to your end, never fear it.

Dorc.

You are a noble Spokesman.

[Bawd and Gabriel confer devoutly the while.
Mad.

Truly, you speak most edifyingly.

Enter Boy with Wine.
Mih.

Well-said, give it to my brother. Drink to our Cousin, Brother.

Gab.

I will, and to that vertuous Matron, whose care of her, I hope, tends unto good edification.—Truly the wine is good, and I was something thirsty.

Mad.

Best drink again then, Sir.

Gab.

I will follow your motherly advice.

[Drinks.
Mih.

'Twill work, anon, I hope.

Gab.

And you have travell'd Cousin. I may sup­pose you brought this well-disposed Gentlewoman from Amsterdam with you. And this unto your wel­come, hoping I shall be informed by you how the two zealous brethren thrive there? that broke in St. Hellens.

Mad.

Of that or any thing sir, pray drink again, sir.

Mih.

You Jade you, hold your tongue.

Enter Nick, Anthony, Clotpoll, Bettie, Frank.
Nick.

O, are ye here Gallants! I made all the haste I co [...], but was stayed, I vow, by the bravest sport, baiting of a fellow or two with our Pusse-cats here. I could e'ne sind in my heart to marry 'em both for their valours.

Dorc.
[Page 69]

Those words are daggers.

Mih.

I pray dissemble your passion.

Nick.

What? are you acquainted already?

Mich.

Did not I tell thee she was a brave Ma­dona?

Mih.

How long have you had acquaintance with her, Nick?

Nick.

Never saw her before this morning, I, stand­ing upon her Belconee.

Gab.

Truly Cousin, I think 'twas you that I saw to day too, standing upon a Bellconee.

Nick.
You spell very modestly, sir. Your brother
I take it. But did you call her Cousin, sir.
Gab.

Yes sir, she is my Cousin.

Mih.

'Twill out too soon. Why Nick, thou know­est these kinde of creatures call and are called Cou­sins commonly.

Nick.

Yes, in their tribe. But I thought he had been too holy for them. But Dammy—

Gab.

O fearfully prophane!

Nick.

You said you had a storie to relate, of dire misfortune. and of unquoth hearing. I come to hear your story, what stop you your eares at? sir.

Gab.

I dare not speak it but in thy reproof. Thou swearest Gee o Dee, Dee a [...]m thee, as I take it.

Nick.

I vow thou liest, I call'd her Dammy, be­cause her name is Damyris,

Gab.

I say thou liest, her name is Dorcas, which was the name of an holy woman.

Nick.

Shall we have things and things? I vow.

[Draw.
Clot.

And I protest.

[Draw.
Mih.

This vvill spoil all. Brother, I pray for­bear.

Gab.

I may not forbear, I am moved for to smite him; yea, vvith often stripes to smite him; my zeal­ous wrath is kindled, and he shall flie before me.

Dorc.
[Page 70]

Let me entreat you, sir.

Bet. Frank.

What furie's this?

[Mihil holds up Gabriel
Nick.

Great Damboys shrink, and give a little ground.

Ex.
Gab.

I will pursue him in mine indignation.

Dor.

O me!

Gab.

And beat him into Potsheards.

Mad.

Now he has bang'd the Pitcher, he may do any thing.

Mih.

Pray, brother, be perswaded.

Clot.

A brother to be so controuled?

Mih.

You sir, put up your Steel-stick.

Clot.

I desire but to know first, if he be a bro­ther.

Mih.

Yes marry is he, sir.

Clot.

Sir, I am satisfied. So let him live.

Gab.

Pray give me leave to ask you, do these men take part with the brethren?

Mih.

Yes, and are brothers a little disguiz'd, but for some ends.

Gab.

Some State-occasions.

Mih.

Meer Intelligencers, to collect up such and such observations, for a great Separatist that is now writing a book against playing at Barlibreak, moulding of Cocklebread, and such like prophane exercises.

Gab.

Truly such exercises are prophane exercises, that bear the denomination of good things ordained for mans use, as Barley, Cockles, and Bread are such things to be made sports and play-games? I pray you let me see these brethren again, to make my atone­ment with them. And are those Sisters too, that were wi [...]h them?

Mih.

O, most notorious ones, and are as equally disguiz'd to be as rank Spies as the other. S'lid man, and they should be taken for such as they are, they would be cut off presently. They came in this [Page 71] mad humour to be merry with you for my sake.

Gab.

Pray let 'em come again, I shall not be well until I have rendred satisfaction.

Mih.

You must do as they do then, or they will think you are a Spie upon them.

Gab.

I will be as merry as they, let wine be given unto us.

Mih.

More wine, Boy, and bid 'em all come in.

Ex. Boy.
Dor.

Alas, Cousin, let him drink no more.

Mih.

Fear nothing, Cousin, it shall be for his good and yours, as I will order it.

Enter Nick. Anthonie, Clotpoll, Bettie, Frank, Drawer with wine
Mih.

All welcome, not any repetition, but begin a new

Gab.

I will begin it, two glasses: it shall be a faith­ful Salutation to all the Brothers and Sisters of—

Clot.

The Blade and the Scabberd.

Nick.

It shall go round.

Ant.

I'le swear you do not well to let him drink so.

Mih.

Well said civil Roarer.

Gab.

Let it go round, go to, you are a wag. I know what you mean by the Blade and the Scabberd.

Clot.

Who could have thought this had been such a brother.

Gab.

Nay, who could have thought you had been of the brethren.

Nick.

Brethren sir, we are the Brothers.

Gab.

Yea, the disguiz'd ones.

Nick.

How? disguiz'd ones?

Mih.

Do not crosse him again. If thou doest, and I do not maul thee. Yes, brother, these are vertu­ous [Page 72] men howe're they seeeme.

Nick.

I vow, I have so much vertue as to rebuke thee for lying. But we are brethren, sir, and as fa­ctious as you, though we differ in the Grounds; for you, sir, defie Orders, and so do we; you of the Church, we of the Civil Magistrate; many of us speak i'th' nose, as you do; you out of humility of spirit, we by the wantonnesse of the flesh; now in de­votion we go beyond you, for you will not kneel to a ghostly father, and we do to a carnal Mystresse.

Mih.

I'le stop your mouth, you said you came to be merry.

Nick.

Yes, I vow, and brought Fidlers along, but they must play i'th' next room, for here's one breaks all the Fiddles that come in his reach. Come fir, will you drink, dance, and do as we do?

Gab.

I'le drink, I'le dance, I'le kisse, or do any thing, any living thing with any of you that is Bro­ther or Sister. Sweet-heart let me feel thy Co­ney.

Mih.
I now he's in. Play Fidlers. Dance.
All bravely performed, admirably well done, &c.
Nick.

I vow, thou art a brother after my own heart.

[To Gabriel.
Women.

We cannot commend you enough, sir.

Gab.

This done in civil fort among our selves, I hope, will prove no scandal to a brother.

Nick.

'Twill prove an honour to our faction.

Gab.

I thirst to do it honour.

Clot.

Give him some wine, he thirsts.

Mih.

Thou little dapper thing, thou, hold thy peace.

Ant.

Thou seest he can scarce stand.

Gab.
No, my religious brethren, no more wine.
Enough's a feast, and little doth suffice.

I thirst to do some honour to our cause. To lead [Page 73] forth legions to fight a battel 'gainst our. malignant adversaries.

Nick.

Brave.

Gab.

Such an employment now would make me famous, for my sufficiency of Att in Armes.

Nick.

I vow, this man has hidden things in him.

Mih.

He has as brave a warlike spirit, man, before his precise humour tainted it, as ever breath'd in Hector.

Nick.

I vow then, a good orderly diet of nothing but sack for a week together, would revive it in him, and bring it to good again.

Mih.

I hope, 'tis done already.

Ant.

How do you, sit?

Gab.

I feare some Jesuitical fumes have invaded my Brain pan. All me thinks goes whirley, whir­ley, whirley.

Ant.

Best lie down upon a bed. Drawer!

Gab.

Souldiers must not be curious. A Bench or a­ny thing.

Draw.

The Gentleman may have a bed here, an't please you. But sir, there's an old angry Gentleman below, that asks for you, and by all description for that mortified Gentleman. And will by all meanes presse into your room here.

Mih.

It is my father.

Dorc.

O me! What shall I do?

M [...]d. Bet. Fran.

We shall be all clap't up.

M [...].

Fear nothing, veile your face a little; Who is with him?

Draw.

No body but his old Servingman, that it seems discover'd you. You may put this Gentleman into this inner room, and keep the Key your selfe. I know not what charge he has about him.

Mih.

Admirable honest fellow.

Draw.

And you may tell your father he is gone, for he is gone you see.

Nick.
[Page 74]

I vow. a wit.

Draw.

Now if you'll be civil, I may bring him up to you, if not, because he is your father, we'll thrust him out of doors, an't please you.

Mi.

Notable rascal, well sir, let him up. I know how to fit him.

Dorc.

But this delays my businesse, Cousin, and will, I fear, frustrate my hopes.

Mi.

Nor hinder any thing, I'le warrant thee, he's thine. Play Fidlers, t'other dance.

Nick.

I vow.

Clot.

Will you! protest.

Ant.

You are not wilde?

Mad.

Come Wenches, if he venture in his fathers sight, shame take us and we blush.

[Dance.
Enter Croswill, Belt.
Cross. Belt.

And I had not sold all my land to live upon my money in Town here, out of danger or the Statute, I would give thee a Copihold for this dis­covery.

Belt.

I thank your worship, and truly 'tis a good­ly sight, me thinks, an't please your worship.

Cross.

I'm glad it likes you. Heigh, excellent good again. Heigh, Heigh, what an happinesse may fathers boast, that can bring their children up to this.

(Dance ended)

I cry ye mercy, Gentlemen all. Ha! I am so­ry I interrupted your serious private occasions.

Nick.

Would you speak with any here, sir?

Mi.

It is my father, Gentlemen?

Cross.

Tny father? hold thy peace; dar'st thou use thy father thus? to spend thy time thus! ha! Is this place fit for the son of a Geatleman of quality? ha! why doest not answer me, does this company sort with thy reputation? ha!

Mih.
[Page 75]

Sir, the company.—

Cross.

Hold thy peace, I say, or are these exerci­ses allowable for a Gentleman, that ever said or heard Grace at his fathers Table? answer me that.

Mih.

An't please you, Sir.

Cross.

Hold thy peace when I bid thee.

Nick.

The company, sir, offends not you, I hope; you see the worst of us.

Cross.

In good time, sir, you are the distracted Gentlemen, I take it, that ask't him if he would moot to night? Is this your mooting? do you put cases to your VVenches, or they to you?

Nick.

I vow thy father talkes too much.

Cross.

Which are the better Lawyers? ha!

Mad.

But that you are his father, sit, and an old man, and he an honest young Gentleman, and our friend, we would tell you.

Cross.

I thank you for him, yes truly, heartily; and for your good opinion of him, heartily. Pray keep him amongst you while ye have him, for I' [...]e ha [...] no more to say to him, I. Is your Invectives against drinking, wenching, and the abomination of the times come to this? is this your spending of time more pretious then money? is it you that knows not what to do with money but to buy books; and were drawn with such unwillingnesse to a Tavern? ha! you shall graze upon Littletons Commons, or eat nothing but books, an't please you, for any exhibition thou e­ver get'st from me—And in that faith thou hast lost a father. Come sir, you have brought me to a goodly sight here; would any Villain but thy selfe have shewed his Master light to see so much woe! Thy Coxscombe shall yet pay fot't.

Belt.

O sir, O.

Cross.

This was your trim sight, was it?

Belt.

O.

Cross.
[Page 76]

But well remembred. Pray where's your bro­ther? my son I would say; for I know no brother or father thou hast. Where is Gabriel?

Mih.

He is not here, sir.

Cross.

Did you not tell me, Sirrah, he was here?

Belt.

I told you then too much. I feel it here.

Cross.

He was here, sir, but he is gone, sir.

Cross.

So, so, he's lost. He must be cried, or we shall never finde him.

Mih.

I'le warrant you, I'le find him yet to night, sir. Pray Gentlemen pay you the Reckoning, I'le wait upon my father home.

Cross.

Was that spoke like a son of mine? must o­thers pay your reckoning, and I in place; take that, and do not make me mad. And why should you home with me? I pray, sir.

Mih.

Because sir, it grows dark, and 'tis the worst way as it is about the town; so many odde holes a man may slip into; pray take me with you, sir.

Cross.

Pray take no care for me, sir, and let the way be as it is. Do not think me worse at it in the dark then your self, I beseech you. But you talk't of the Reckoning, pray let not the want of money for that hinder the search of your brother. There's towards your paines for that; and so for a farewel to you and your friends here, till I hear thou keepest better company, let me hear no more of thee.

Ex. Cross. and Belt.
Mih.

There was no way to get this money, and be rid of him, but to offer him my service He would have driven me out before him else. But come, let's see my brother that went to sleep in so warlike a Passion. I hope he'll wake in a better.

Nic.

Mun Clotpoll, thou art dull.

Clot.

No, I protest, but struck with admiration at the old Blades humour.

Nick.
[Page 77]

Come, Dammy and the rest, be merry. I vow, we'll sup together, and so at last hear all thy dis­mal story.

Nick.
I mean he shall, and such an Audit make,
As shall restore her honour from the stake.
Ex. Omnes.

Act V.

Scaen. 1.

Enter Crossewill Solus.
Cross.

WHat has this Coxscombe Cockbrayne writ me here? That he desires his ab­sence be excus'd. What have I to do with him? when I send for him, let him come to me. That he is up­on a point of discovery in a most excellent project for the weeding of this Garden? what Garden? what project? A project he says here for the good of the Republike, Repudding. This fellow has in stead of braines, a Cob-web in his Noddle, with little strawes, feathers, and wings of dead Butterflies hanging in it, that having motion by his aery fancie, there dance and keep a Racket; 'tis to teach women silence, or some such foolish impossibility. He is ambitious to be call'd into authority by notice taken of some spe­cial service he is able to do the tate aforehand. But what great service he is able to do it, or which way to undertake it, falls not in the reach of my imaginati­on. But good Mr. Croswill, by your favour now, what reason have you to slight or wrangle at this man? this honest Cockbrayne? that has alwayes been a con­stant friend to you, and officious in many good wayes, and is a Gentleman, not only of good descent and e­state, but of a good disposition. And you two, Mr. Crossewill, by your leave, have alwayes agreed like [Page 78] neighbours children. I, the divel was in't, and now he vexes me again; we agreed in one point so well, that we have undone a couple of our children by it, and hindred the getting of I know not how many more. His son and my daughter should have married. And on a sndden he and I both consented to a dislike of the match and broke it, and have both repented it an hundred times since. We agree very wel in that point; and now is his son irrecoverably lost, and my daughter resolutely bent to be an Ape-leader in Limbo. But whats all this to the affliction I suffer in my sons now? that one of them from a riotous boy. should grow into a Puritanical Woodcock; and the tother from a civil well-qualified fellow, turn'd absolute Ruffian. There, there, I there's the devil in't. I could beat my selfe for getting such children.

Enter Belt.

See, see, my Master for want of other company fal­len out with himself, and it please you, sir.

Cros.

It does not please me, nor thou pleasest me, nor any thing pleases me. The world's bent to crosse me, and thou shalt feel it.

Belt.

O good sir.

Cross.

Is it not so, sir, was not that dunce Gabriel, a most notorious wilde thing

Before he steer'd a Religious course? but then he run so full a saile, that he pass'd and was beyond the line of Religion before he was aware; and as he passed it un­der the torrid Zone of Zeale, the Calenture took him o'the pate, that he is mad with it, and as far beyond Religion now as it is to it.

Belt.

Sir, there's hope that he may he fetch't halfe way back again, by your fatherly advicement, and be­come a sound man.

Cross.
[Page 97]

And then was not Mihil so civil, that he made me even sick to see him. And now is he flowen out as far into rior t'other way.

Belt.

But he, sir, will appear a present comfort to you, he is reclaim'd already; you shall never see such a Reformation in a Gentleman.

Cros.

What's this you tell me? ha!

Belt.

He has cast off his long-curl'd haire and all.

Cross.
He had been better have cut his head off.
Where is he!
Belt.

Below sir, and a Gentlewoman with him, but very much afraid to appear to you. I never saw a man so timoursome.

Cross.

Do you think it fit I should go down to him, or he come up to me, fir, ha!

Belt.

I'le fetch him, here's a life!

Ex.
Cross.

I charg'd he should not come at this house too, for feare he might be catch'd with this mecha­nick fellows daughter, though her portion be around one. And let him take heed he look not at her.

Enter Mihil and Madge.

Blesse me! what changeling is this? he's in his Brothers cut.

Mih.

Sir,—Sir.—

Cross.

Would you speak with any here, sir, do you know me. I know not you, I assure you.

Mih.

The sense of your late displeasure, sir, has so humbled me into the knowledge of my self, that on the wings of true obedience, I flew after you to make a childes submission at your feet, to crave your pardon for my riotous transgression, and to ask your bles­sing.

Cros.

A delicate speech, pray take it for fashion-sake. [Page 80] But if I know how to look towards thee.

Mih.

Pray sir, bestow it really upon me.

Cross.

God blesse thee, I say, and so much many honest men bestow daily on sons that are none of their own, if thou beest mine, how camest thou thus like a fellow that had narrowly scap't the Pillorie, and brag'd in the publication of his eares? not an hair left to hide them.

Mih.

To shew my readinesse to reform my life, sir. And yet a willingnesse withal to live, as well, as civilly, in which I am in all humility to preferre a suit to you. You know, sir, I am but a younger bro­ther.

Cros.

What will this come to?

Mih.

Here is a widow, sir, a Gentlewoman of great estate, and of a well-known life. Antient she is, and has had husbands. How many?

Mad.

Foure truly, sir.

Mih.

Foure sir, I would not lie. Of which the worst spoke well of her on's death-bed.

Mad.

What's that to me or thee? come to the point.

Mih.

I have all wo'd and wonne her, sir, and crave but your good-will to marry her. I have brought a Church-man and a Kinsman to give her.

Cross.

Why so, what needs two words then? do you think I can deny you?

Mih.

If he does grant it, 'tis the first request that e're he granted in his life. Sure the old Match-ma­ker the devil thinks I am in earnest to marry this beast. And puts a readinesse in his hand to for­ward it.

Cross.

Widow, you are welcome. Why call you not your Priest? or tarry sir, let me question you but a little, Do you think seriously you love this wi­dow?

Mih.
[Page 81]

Better then many men love their wives, I am perswaded.

Cross.

'Tis very well, what children have you wi­dow?

Mad.

Never had any, Sir.

Cross.

Very well still.

Mi.

Nor ever like to have any, fir, thats the com­fort. We shall live at the lesse charge.

Cross.

Thou art a covetous and a preposterous Knave. Wouldest thou bury up thy youth in barren ground? doest seek after wealth, and not after issue? doest love to feed on other mens leavings? or travel only in a beaten path? ha!

Mih.

A man goes certainest on his journey so, sir, and lesse trouble it is you know to go in at a great gate, then a narrow wicket.

Cross.

You have said enough, sir, and delight to crosse me; but I'le crosse you for once, and lay a crosse upon you, shall perhaps carry you to your grave. Go, fetch your Priest.

Mih.

I'le face it as far as I dare. I hope I shall have the grace to pull my hand from the book when it comes so far.

Ex.
Cross.

Widow, you are resolv'd to have him too.

Mad.

Before all men i'th' world by your fair leave, 1.

Cross.

You shall not have him.

Mad.

Without your free consent, I will not.

Cross.

I am resolv'd I'le do't. And 'twill be the best crosse trick that e're I did in my life. Pray let me speak in some more private wirh you.

Mad.

If I but 'scape Bridewell, I care not.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Mihil, Anthonie, Katharine, Parson.
Mih.

Now Tonie, she 's thine own, Now Sister Kate; [Page 82] he's thine. The Priest has pronounc't it. I say, A­men to't. And heaven give you joy.

Kat.

Now you have done the best brotherly office that ever made a Sister happy.

Ant.

And the friendliest to a friend. We have been casting for it, Sweet, this Twelve-moneth, and Heaven pardon me. I vow'd never to take acquaint­ance of my Father, till 'twere effected. Although I know of late he has been willing.

Kat.

And so is mine, I know, but yet he swore, that I should match my self before he knew't, or I should never marry.

Mih.

You'll finde him of another minde towards me, and force me into wedlock presently.

Kat.

You have ta'ne the likeliest course that could be. But what is your disguiz'd woman, Bro­ther.

Mih.

What you shall never know, Sister, I hope.

Enter Crossewill, Rookesbill, Lucie, Madge.
Cross.

Come sir, I have broken off the match with your widow; and she's content to leave you as she found you. And now take me this pretty, simpring, plump-lip't, ruddie-cheek't, white-neck't, long-fin­ger'd Virgin in hand, or I will swindge you, Sirrah, look to't. If you cannot live civilly with a young wife, you cannot but be mad with an old, I think. Be­sides, she's a friends daughter of mine, and prepar'd by her discreet father here to love you. Come, and kisse her, quickly, Sirrah.

Mih.

I cannot do't for all the wealth in the world.

Cross.

How's that?

Mih.

Kisse a Maid I never saw above twice in my life.

Cross.
[Page 83]

He will have me think him a bastard, do I what I can. Canst thou see a Maid twice, and not kisse her?

Mih.

Yes, twenty times, sir, and not kisse her, or if once, not above, sir.

Cross.

But you shall kisse her above and below, sir, and in every room o'th' house, sir, before you part. Stand faire pretty one.

Luc.

I know not how to do't.

Rook.

You were not best let me instruct you. I can be angry too.

Luc.

His back side's towards me.

Cross.

Turne your self, Sirrah, or I'le turne you. Go to, bend your body a little and be hang'd. So, now come your way, and say after your little Sir John here, I Mihil take thee, Lucie, &c. As learning shall enable him to proceed without book.

Rook.

Pray let'em do it in the next chamber, they are too bashful afore us. There are witnesses enough. Go all in, I pray you.

Mih.

Widow, will you give me leave to obey my father?

Mad.

With all my heart, and say Amen to the marriage.

Cross.

I think I shall have my will at last upon one of my rebellious off-spring.

Rook.

And now, pray give me leave sir, to let you know how happy I do hold my selfe in this marriage. I did like this Son better then the other before. And now I like him better then I did at my former view of him, by some Reformation that I do observe in him. And I do not a little rejoyce in the honour I may have to call you brother.

Cross.

That very word brother out of his mouth, has turn'd my stomack. I must pull all in pieces again. And yet let me see these young bloods when they [Page 84] are set on't; if they do not marry, they will do worse. Let em e'ne go on now.

Rook.

You may easily conceive, sir, what a com­fort it will be unto me, that I now growing old, and having (I give praise for't,) wealth enough, and no childe that I make account of but this one daughter, may, before I die, see Grandchildren that I may have by her sufficiently provided for, be they more or lesse in number, they may have enough.

Cross.

There he is again, he calls my Grand-chil­dren that shall be, his Grand-children. Am I a Gentleman, and can hear this? if it be not too late, I'le spoile the getting of your Grand-children.

Enter all again.
All.

Heaven give you joy. Heaven give you joy.

Cross.

What, are you married?

Pars.

I do pronounce them man and wife.

Ant.

Mad. Kat. And we are witnesses.

Crosse.

What remedy?

Mih. Luc.

We are, and crave your blessings.

Cross. Rook.

All blessings be upon you, (all sa­lute).

Cross.

But you, sir, Mr. Bridegroom.

Mih.

I'le only gratifie the Minister.

Cross.

Do so, and pay him well, it is, perhaps, for the dearest fault that e're thou didst.

Mih.

There's for your paines, sir. Madge, there's for you. Enough to purchase thee a Licence to sell Ale, Tobaccho, and Strong-water again in Godpiece-Rowe, for here will be no dwelling for thee, I see that.

Now, brother Anthonie, go you all back to the com­pany we left, and see that my Instructions be followed [Page 85] concerning my brother Gabriel, Nick, and his Dam­mie,

Ant.

All, all.

Kat.

Shall he go from me?

Mih.

Yes, but you shall follow him presently, trust to me Sister. Go, take no leave of 'em. I'le bring 'em upon you presently.

Cross.

Are you at leisure now, sir, to tell me of your brother.

Mih.

Yes, to my grief, sir, praying you may have patience.

Cross.

To your grief, sir, he is not dead then? Younger brothers seldome grieve for their Elders death.

Mih.

Pray bear it as you may, sir I left him in an heavy plight. And let me speak it with sorrow, he lay speechlesse.

Rook.

Alack-a day, good Gentleman, my son in-law, perhaps, is heire already.

Cross.

And hast thou been here all this while fooling or wiving (all's a matter) & left thy brother in danger? ha!

Mih.

He's well attended, sir, and look't unto. Nor would I wish you see his weak estate.

It can but grieve you, sir, my wife and sister, toge­ther with my self, will go. Or if

It please my father Rooksbill here, because his power in this quarter is available.

Cross.

Co, shew the way. I'le go in person, I. My son's my son.

Mih.

Nay, pray sir.

Cross.

Yes, 'cause you have a wife, you shall con­troul me. Will you go on, sir.

Mih.

Well, I'le bring you to him, sir.

Luc.

What was your widow, sir, she stunk of Aqua­vitae, fearfully.

Mih.

I'le tell thee as we go. Kisse.

Exeunt.

Scoen. 3.

Enter Clotpoll, Dorcas, Nick.
Nick.

What a drunken sot was I, that knew thee not all this while? I vow, thy story pities me. I'le marry thee, and turne thee to thy friends, for I am sure I have none that will keep thee for my sake.

Dorc.

I ask no further satisfaction of you, then to be honested by marriage. I'le work for a poor li­ving.

Nick.

Prithee Mun seek me a Priest.

Clot.

I have no acquaintance in their function, I.

Dorc.

My Cousin Mihil said he would bring or send one.

Nick.

There's no starting, that Mihil has a fist o­ver me. I vow, and thou wert not his Kinswoman, thou should to the Common yet.

Clot.

Father, how come you hither?

Capt.

Did not the company send for me?

Nick.

I vow, not we.

Capt.

The City-mouth, that peck't us at my lodging last night, came to me with an abominable scratch't face, and warn'd me on a businesse hither.

Nick.

I smell some trick.

Clot.

Some treacherie upon the brotherhood, per­haps.

Nick.

Timorous thing! what in our own Quar­ter?

Capt.
If you doubt any thing, 'tis best remove.
The fellow was sorely handled.
Nick.

I would but see the carcass of authority prance in our Quarter, and we not cut his legs off. Wel­come Tonie, what hast thou brought the word here to passe for the Reckoning.

[Page 87] Enter Ant. Parson.
Ant.

Come, you must make a wedding-night on't Nick, Mihil will go no lesse.

Nick.

My Vow is pass'd, and before you, sir, I con­firm it. This is my wife. Anon, you shall perform the holy Ceremony,

Ant.

'Tis well, pray sir, retire your self to the next room there a while, and stay you with him, Lady.

But what do you with Gabriel? Is it not time to wake him yet?

Clot.

'Tis now upon the point, h'as slept two houres.

Nick.

Father, you'll see a brave experiment upon a Gentleman that has been a youth.

Clot.

And of the Philoblathici, as we are now.

Nick.

And since was grown one of the reformed, and we are now in practice to retrive, and bring him back to his first condition.

Ant.

Have you followed all Mihils directions?

Nick.

Hitherto we have. First, you saw he was laid defunct in Sack, next in his sleep, we have accou­tred him in martial ab liments, and now we mean to wake him with alarmes shall affright the silly humour out of him, and render him his warlike faculty, or our Art failes.

Ant.

Where be the Wenches?

Clot.

The Sisters of the Scabberd, there's the sport on't. They have their parts to play upon him too. But for his drink now when he wakes, you said you would have a bottle of the womans what do you call't yonder? the Medea.

Capt.

What? the charm'd liquor that Medea brew'd to make old father Aeson young again?

Must that renew his youthful spirit in him?

Nick.
[Page 88]

No, Sack will do bette [...]. When he wakes he will be very dry, then a quart-draught of good Ca­narie will so screw him up. 'Tis time 'twere now in practice. So, softly, softly. We must but halfe wake him at first.

A Bed put forth, Gabriel on it, Bettie and Frank.
Gab.

O some small drink.

Nick.

Here, drink it off, sir,

(Drinks)

D [...]um and Trumpet. An Alarm.

Gab.

Surpriz'd by th' enemie, whilest we have plaid the Sluggard in our Tents.

Capt. Nick. Clot.

Hold Captain, hold, we are your souldiers.

Gab.

Y'are Mutineers, and have disturb'd my rest. And I'le do Martial Justice on you all.

Nick.

I vow, hold, are you mad?

Gab.

Know you not discipline? or are you growen rebellious in the Camp. I'le teach you war­fare.

Capt.

You have conjur'd a fury into him to beat us into fitters.

Clot.

My pate bleeds for't; I protest.

Gab.

I'le make you know command.

Ant.

Noble Commander, hold thy furious hand, and heare thy souldiers speak.

Gab.

What have we women for our Martial Mu­sick?

Clot.

None but the She-Trumpet, a neighbour here, and her Sister, that was Drum-ma [...]or to my Coun­trey-Amazons, that pull'd up the Inclosures to lie all in Common.

Gab.

Is the enemy i'th' field?

Nick.

Upon their march, Captain, and we your of­ficers: But rows'd you up to be in readinesse.

Gab.

You are my Lieutenant, you my Ancient, and you two my Sergeants; and you must know the Com­mander [Page 89] you serve under, to be none of those Letter-carriers that know not so much as the termes of dis­cipline, what a Flanker is, Nor a Raveling is. Nor a Petarre is. Nor a Curtain is. Nor a Bulwark is. Nor a Bastile is. Nor a Counterscarp is. Nor a Casemate is. A Gabion is: Nor any left word of fortification. How can such fresh-water Captains command?

All.

Right noble Colonel. He shall be our Co­lonel.

Clot.

One souldier made up of Sack, is worth as many as would drink a fresh water river dry.

Gab.

I knew, men of abilities should at last be put in action.

Valiant men and wise,
Are only fit for weighty enterprise.
All.

O noble Colonel.

Gab.

What would an upstart Militaster now, That knew no rudiments of discipline, nor Art of warre, do in a sudden service? or say, when I know how to have my Ordnance planted here, my Cavalrie mount­ed here, my Battery-discove [...]er on such a point, my Trenches cut thus, my Mine carried thus, my Gabi­ons rais'd thus. Here my Parapet, there my Pallisadoe o'th'top of that. The enemie made saltable six hun­dred paces there. And I draw out my Musketeers to flank 'em in their Trenches here, while my Pikes and Targeteers advance to the breach there. What would Captain, my Lords man, or Sergeant-major, my Ladies Kinsman, sent in by honourable favour, do or say in such an expedition?

All.

Braver and braver still.

Clot.

This goes beyond the Blade and the Bat­toon.

Gab.

Or how would their braines lie in their breeches, when the able Captain leads up his men in the Head of a Troop bravely, charges with his shot, [Page 90] makes a stand with his Pikes, does execution with his Sword, the Cannon playing, the Drum beating, the Shot thumping, the Ensignes waving, the Armes clashing, the Aire rending, Dust and Smoke clouding, Blood raining. And then to bring up such a Division to fight, make good such a Ground, relieve such a Squadron, fetch off such a losse, r'enforce the Ranks that are broken. March on, Come off. Beat the Bessognes that lie hid in the Carriages. O the renown­ed life of a worthy Commander.

Nick.

Sound Drum and Trumpet.

All.

A Colonel, a Colonel.

Enter Croswill, Rooksbill, Mihil.
Cros.

Whither hast thou brought me? does thy brother lie speechlesse in this house? ha! what in the name of tumult can these be?

Mih.

Pray sit, attend, you will be pleased a­non.

Gab.

A still march now. So, I have lost a great ma­ny of my men. But courage yet, you poor remainder of my scatter'd Troops. Stand. Qni vala. An Am­buscado of the enemy. Alarme. Lieutenant, charge in with your Shot. Now Gentlemen, for the honour of Covent-Garden, make a stand with your Pikes; in to the short sword; well fought, take Prisoners. Sound a Retreat now. Faire, faire i'th' coming off. So, 'twas bravely perform'd.

Clot.

Must we not fall to rifling now, Colo­nel.

Mih.

Part faire on all sides, Gentlemen.

Gab.

What's this, a vision, sure I do aile some­thing.

Cross.

Is't possible it is thou? art thou run mad as far as hell the tother way now.

Rook.
[Page 91]
My wicked, caitiffe, reprobate son is here too.
Pray let me flee, I am but a dead man else.
Mih.

You shall receive no harm, sir Lay by your Armes my Masters. I bring none but friends.

Nick.

I hou canst not make that good, my father's there.

Mih

I'le make him friends with thee. Go and di patch within.

Ant.

I'le see it done, and take our new made Brides with us for witnesses.

Ex. Nick. Ant. Kat. Luc.
Rook

Has his shame yet taught him to shunne my sight.

Mih.

And shall returne him instantly your com­fort.

Rook.

Unpossible, unpossible.

Mih.

Attend the event.

Cross.

I rather thought I should have found you, sir, disputing with the Pastors, and the Elders; yet to say truth, this is the better madnesse. What can this mean? how came he thus translated? what Charmes, or what Inchantments are upon him?

Gab.
What Babel was a building in my braines?
But now it turnes, and I can recollect
The knowledge of a father, brother, Sister.
And that a thousand vain imaginations,
Like scatterings of light things upon the earth,
Rushes, loose leaves, sprigs, straws, and dust
Contracted by a whirlwinde, were blowen up,
And lodg'd in the rich Seat of Contemplation,
Usurping there the room of vertuous thoughts.
Honour awake me from this Lethargie.
Cros.

What can those women that appear like furies be in this action?

Mih.

They were but us'd as properties to give new motion to his mortified condition.

Cros.

I know not what to say to any thing; there [Page 92] is some Spell upon me too. My anger has forsook me. What are those men that bear a countenance. As if they stood indifferently affected to Bedlam and Bride-well.

Clot.
Meaning by us, sir. If our sight offend you,
Know we are men that dare forbear the place.
Capt.
I son, let's go, our stay is dangerous.
They look like Peace-maintainers, we [...]ll fall off.
Enter Vintner.
Vint.

O tarry, Gentlemen, we are all undone else. If you make not your peace before you stir, both you and I must suffer.

Capt.

What's the matter?

Vint.

The Magistrates and Officers with their Bill-men have ta'ne us by surprise. They are i'th' house.

Bett.

O me! the blew Gown Colledge.

Fran.

Wheels and whips. I feel what we must go to. Did not I say our stay was dangerous?

Clot.

Did not I say there was some subtile pra­ctice upon the Philoblatici? and that we were betrayed hither?

Vint.

There's no escaping forth. And Gentlemen, It will but breed more scandal on my house, and the whole plantation here, if now you make rebellious up­roar. Yield your weapons, and welcome Justice but like subjects new, and peace will follow.

Clot.

But where's Nick? where's Tonie?

Mih.

They shall yield up their weapons. So do you.

Capt.

Yes yes, 'tis best.

Clot.

Shall we, sir, shall we?

Mih.

Yes sir, you shall.

Clot.

So, sir, I will then, not the Blade alone. But [Page 93] for your more security, the Battoon, There see my Armes forth coming.

Exeunt.
Mih.

Say they shall have faire welcom, What are they married?

Enter Nick. Dorcas, Ant. Kat. Luc.
Ant.

Yes, as fast as troth and holy words can binde 'em.

Mih.
'Tis well. Now sir, let me entreat your favour.
'Tis my first suit to you since I was your son,
That before others entrances distract our troubled
Scoene, these may be reconcil'd.
Down. Brother Nicholas.
Nick.

Even unto the earth, sir, and humbled with as true a penitence, as son can be for wronging of a father, I beg your pardon and blessing.

Cros.

Give it him, Brother Rooksbill, I dare say 'twill make him a good man.

Rook.

Heaven make him so. My blessing and my prayers shall not be wanting.

Cros.

What? my Neece Dorcas made an honest wo­man?

Gab.

Was that the man that wrong'd my Cousin Dorcas?

Mih.

Yes, and has now made ample recompence.

Enter Cockbrayne, Cit. Watch. Madgeo
Cit.

Here they are altogether, sir.

Cock.

Lay hands on all. First, on that old Ruffian, the Incendiarie, that sets the youthful bloods on fire here with his Infernal discipline. Next, take his sons, there's one, that young Blade there, Have I now got within ye, Gentlemen? will you have Songs ex temporc? know ye me now? a ha! I'le be can'd the [Page 94] Weeder of this Garden. Take up those She weeds there. I have the rank one here. I took her stragling in my Round e'ne now.

Rook.

My Tenant, I take it, Mrs. Margerie How­let.

Cros.

Your widow sir, I think.

Mih.

But for a shift sir, now you know my aim.

Mad.

O good your worship, as you came of a wo­man.

Cock.

Peace Circes, cease thy charmes. What clu­ster have we here now. O here's another of the sons of noise.

Rook.

That's my son now, sir, by your leave, and I'le baile him.

Cook.

What Mr. Rooksbil, are you here? what wo­man's this?

Cros.

My Neece, sir, his sons wife. And I'le baile her.

Cock.

What Mr. Croswill, you among this Ginge too?

How will you 'scape commitment?

Cross.

Why, Mr. Cockbrayne? how his braines crow now?

Cock.

Who's here? your daughters too? but what are these?

Cros.

I hope they'l prove my sons, and be indiffe­rent men in time, sir, by that time their haire may grow, or be reduc't to an indifferent length.

Mih.

That's done on me already, sir.

Cros.

Now he looks as like a Rogue as e're he did again.

Gab.

And sir, for me, now that my Cousin is resto­red, and the wilde fury of my wine abated.

I do you the obedience of a son, acknowledging my former formal habit was more of stubbornnesse then true devotion. For which I beg your pardon.

Cros.
[Page 95]

There's more deceit under these half Foot­balls, then in whole Pudding-bags. Well boyes, be you indifferent sons, neither too hot nor too cold. I have found a fault in myself, I confesse. I will re­form it, and be an indifferent father.

Cock.

O here's the man I sought, whom, I confess, I am half sorry to commit with the rest, because I found him civiller.

Ant.

Hoping you will not stake that good opinion, I'le now come nearer to you. And since here is such a convention of love and joy. I hope my offering of a sons true duty may sinde I dulgencie.

Cock.

What? my son Antonie?

Cross.

How? how? your son that should have had my daughter? Come hither Kate, now if thou lov'st him, take him. Are you content, friend Cock­brayne.

Cock.

O sir, most happily.

Cros.

Why run you not together?

Ant.

It is too late, or needlesse now for me to marry her.

Cros.

Is't come to that? and if I do not swindge him—.Are you too good, sir, for my daugh­ter?

Ant.

I do not say so, sir.

Cros.

Huswife, do you like him?

Kat.

No more then he does me, sir.

Cros.

Get you together, or I'le swaddle you both into one, you perverse fooles.

Ant.

Sir, the truth is, we are married already.

Kat.

'Tis so, indeed, sir.

Cros.

Heyday! who am I trow? how durst you do it vvithout my consent?

Kat.

I had your consent, sir, you commanded me to take my choice in vvhom I pleas'd, before you vvould take notice.

Cros.
[Page 96]

I cannot abide this vvrangling. Give you joy.

Cock.

Joy and my blessing on you. Why I knovv not vvhom to commit novv.

Cros.

You have done the Common-wealth a special piece of service the vvhile vvith your State-braines. But let us make a night of this, I pray.

Cit.

Sir, the parties have given me satisfaction, and I am content they be releas'd.

Cros.

There's an honest fellovv novv, and looks like one that vvould be beaten every day for ready money. Go novv, vvhile ye are vvell, and be seen no more in this Precinct.

All.

Never and't please your vvorships, never.

Cros.
'Tvvas built for no such vermine. Hence avvay.
And may the place be purg'd so every day.
'Tis no unvvorthy member may be found,
To pester or to vilifie this ground.
That as it vvas intended, it may be
A Scoene for Vertue and Nobilitie.

EPILOGUE.

TIs not the Poets Art, nor all that we
By life of Action can present on't, ye
Can or ought make us to presume a Play
Is good, 'tis you approve't. Which that you may
It cannot misbecome us, since our gaines
Come by your favour, more then all our paines.
Thus to submit us unto your commands.
And humbly ask the favour at your hands.

Another.

'Tis done. And now that Poets can divine,
Observe with what Nobility doth shine
Faire Covent-Garden. And as that improves,
May we finde like Improvement in your Loves.
FINIS.
THE NEW ACADEMY, Or, …

THE NEW ACADEMY, Or, the NEW Exchange.

By RICHARD BROME.

LONDON, Printed or Andrew Crook, at the Green Dragon in Saint [...]auls Church-yard: And Henry Brome at the Gun in Ivy-lane. 1658.

The Actors Names.
  • [Page] Sir Swithin Whimlby, a melancholy Widower. Suitor to the Lady Nestlecock.
  • Old Matchil, a Merchant that married his Maid. Gabri­alla's Guardian.
  • Young Matchil his sonne.
  • Old Lafoy a French Gentleman, Guardian to young Matchil.
  • Young F. Lafoy his sonne.
  • Mr. Hardyman, Captain Valentines Father-in-law. Han­nah's father.
  • Strigood, half brother to Matchil.
  • Valentine Askal, son-in-law to Hardiman. Hannah's half-brother.
  • Erasmus a young Gentleman, his Companion and Friend.
  • Cash, Matchils Prentice.
  • Nehemiah Nestlecock, a foolish Gentleman, the Ladies sonne.
  • Ephraim, the Lady Nestlecocks Servant.
  • Rafe Camelion an uxorious Citizen.
  • A Footpost.
  • Papillion Two Monsieurs, alias Philip Matchils and Lafoy's sons
    Galliard Frances
VVomen.
  • Ladie Nestlecock, a fond Mother.
  • Joyce, Ma [...]chils Daughter. Foster Sisters.
    Gabriella, Lafoy's Daughter.
  • Mrs. Blithe Tripshort, Sir Swithin Whimlbies Neece.
  • Hannah, Camelions wife, Captain Hardimans daughter.
  • Maudlin, Matchils Maid and Wife.

THE NEW ACADEMY, OR, THE NEW EXCHANGE.

Act. I.

Valentine, Erasmus.

IS this the entertainment you promis'd me in the Jovial Mer­chants house? Is this the great interest you have in his huge hos­pitality? when by half an hours attendance and intreats, we can­not obtain the sight of him.

Er.

I wonder at it; Sure some strange disaster has suddenly befallen him. He was, last night the merriest man alive, drank healthes; told tales; sung Catches; Trowle the Bowle; Tosse the Cannykin; and what not! and all for joy, that his sonne, he said, was upon his returne, whom he has not seen these dozen years, since he sent him a little Lad into France, to be bred there.

Val.

I heard he did so; and that in lieu, by way of [Page 2] Exchange, he brings up the daughter of the Parisien that breeds his sonne.

Er.

Right.

Val.

But is that daughter so exquisite a creature, as is this Merchant Matchills own whom you so much extoll?

Er.

They are both so equally handsome, and ver­tuous, that, be their dowries so, and their consents alike, I'll take my choice of crosse and pile for either, with such a friend as thou art.

Val.

Troth, and that's friendly spoken, Mus.

Er.

It is so Val. yet not with some policie do I wish thee a fortune: for, insooth. young Gentleman, though I like your person, and some of your qualities, yet by reason of your wants, I finde you something heavy on my purse-strings; and my selfe scarce able to supply you. And, if we faile of good matches, I must even turne you over shortly to the hopes you hoast of in your City-Mystresses and Tradesmens wives—.

Val.

Peace, prythee hold thy peace.

Enter Cash.

Friend Cash! Is your Master, Mr. Matchill yet at leisure [...] be seen?

Cast.

He much desires, sir, to be held excus'd. 'Tis true that he invited you. His dinner's ready; and his heart welcomes you. But he has met with an unhap­py newes to day.—

Val.

I feard some ill. What is the mat­ter?

Cash.

His only sonne, whom he of late expect­ed home out of France, we hear, is dead.

Val.

His daughter will prove a bouncing match then.

Cash.
[Page 3]

That's the impression the heavy newes makes in you, Gentlemen.

Er.

Come, let's go.

Cash.

Nay, Gentlemen, although my Masters sud­den sadnesse shuts him from you. His meat and wine are ready. There are some good company in his Par­lour too, Pray stay.

Val.
Are his faire daughter, and the French-borne
Damsel there to be seen?
Cash.

Both. Pray be pleas'd to enter.

I hope his passionate fit e're you have din'd will be past over. He is not wont to suffer long under the hand of sorrow.

'Tis like that you shall see him ere you go.
Er.

In that faire hope we'll enter and fall to.

Ex. Val. Er.
Cash.
'Tis like you shall fall short though of your aim
At my young Mystresse, who by this black newes,
Becomes my Masters heire, and so the white
That all the gallant suiters of the City
And Court will level their keen shafts at. Where
Are mine own hopes then, that stood as faire
In competition for her, love as any,
When the great noise of her inheritance,
Shall drown each Lovers tongue, that cannot say,
It is a Lords at least, I rather wish
The young man had not did.
Enter Strigood.
Stri.

Where's my Boykin? my Friskoe? my De­light? my Cash? by what better name can I call thee?

Cash.

O me! Master Strigood, what make you here?

Stri.
I come to comfort my brother in his sor­row.
[Page 4] His sonne is dead, they say. Ha! Is't not so?
Cash.
And he is almost dead with sorrow: Back sir.
The sight of you, that are his sole vexation, will make him mad.
Str.
That is my way to cure him.
Madnesse drowns grief in any man. —Probatum.
Cash.
Good Mr. Strigood depart.
Str.
Good Mr. Cash, and Mr. Matchils man.
I'll see your Master. What! deny his brother?
His nowne natural brother? By the surer side too
We tumbled in one Pannier; though we had
Two Rippiers, Sweet sir, I am the elder too
Strigood was in my mother before Matchill
Therefore, because I have spent an estate
And he has got-one, must not I maintain
My self the better man?
Cash.
Yes: if you had the wherewithal.
Str.
Sir, you had been as good ha' held your tongue.
Lend me some money Cash.
Cash.
I have no money, sir, but what's my Ma­sters.
Str.
Whose money, sir, was that you played last night.
Among the Knights and Braveries at the ordinary?
Gold by the handfuls, Cash! Lend me two pieces.
Cash.
Speak lower, sir.
Str.
Lend me three pieces, Cash.
Before I speak too loud, whose money's that
You use to weare abroad at Feasts and Revels
In silver lace and satten; though you wait
At home in simple Serge, or broad-cloth, sir.
Cash.
Be not so loud, I pray.
Str.
Lend me five pieces.
I shall grow louder else. Who payes your Barber?
[Page 5] I mean not for your Prentice pig-hair'd cut
Your weare at home here; but your Periwigs;
Your locks and Lady-ware that dangle in 'em,
Like straws in the bush natural of a Bedlem?
Cash.
What mean you Mr. Strygood.
Stri.
I mean ten pieces now; I'll go no lesse. Do not I know your haunts?—
Cash.
You may; you train'd one to 'em
Str.
Do not I know your our leaps, and vagaries?
Your tiring houses, where you shift your self,
Your privy lodgings, for your trunks and punks?
Your midnight walks and meetings? Come, the money.
And, heark thee, though thou modest my brother by't.
I'll keep thy councel: thou shalt finde me yertuous.
I want, he gives me nothing; and thou canst not
Do him better service, then relieve his brother.
Cash:
I am in; and must, to hide my old faults, do
—Aside.
Like an ill Painter, lawbe 'em o're with new.
Str.
Quickly. I shall grow loud again else Cash.
Cash.
Sir, I am in your hands, here are ten pieces.
I hope you will not think my Master for▪ [...].
Str.
No; no for all he has that comes through thy hands.
My nimble Cash; and from his I am sure,
Though I were starving, I should finger nothing.
Cash.
Will you go now?
Str.
I'll see him e're I go,
And dine, if there be meat i'th' house. What eate's
Are there within [...]'ll draw a knife amon [...] 'em.
Ex.
Cash.
This desperate old Russian, would undo me,
But he hopes to waste his brother by me.
He has spent himself to beggery; and would fall so,
But that he has pernicious fire in's brain,
[Page 6] That raging spreads to ruine others with him.
I must beware of him,
Enter Lady Nestlecock, Ephraim.
Is she come too?
Then 'tis deereed, my Master must, from sorrow, suffer in madnesse.
La.
Go home Ephraim.
And have a care you suffer not my boy
To Straggle forth 'mong his unhappy play-mates,
For fear of mischief.
Eph.
It shall be my care.
—Ex.
La.
What do you lock up my brother, ha?—
Cash.
H' has lock't himself up, Madam; and will suffer
None to come at him, till his sorrowful fit
Be somewhat over.
La.
Not's own Sister, ha?—
Cash.
Nor his half brother neither: yet he's here.
La.
Is he here, ha? That Strygood? Is he here?
Hang him old reprobate. And beshrew thy heart,
For a young varlet, to call him our brother.
It is no marvel, if my brother Matchil
Lock up himself, and such a wickednesse
Be in his house, as is that Strygood, ha—
Let him take heed, he comes not in my Nayl reach,
And call me Sister, or my Brother, brother,
Like a debaush'd old Villain, as he is.
O that my husband Nestlecock were alive,
But for three minutes, to send him to
Newgate, if he presume to call me Sister
But I command you in my husbands name,
Who was a Justice, when he liv'd, to thrust him
Out of your Masters doors, my brothers house.
[Page 7] Lest I be sick with the loath'd sight of him.
You will not disobey this, will you, ha?—
If not, why stir you not? ha.—
Cash.
I must remove
This fit of hers. There's but one way to do it;
And thats to talk of her white boy, she's fond on.
La.
Will you not send him packing, ha?—
Cash,
First, Madam.
(By your good Ladiships leave) how does your sonne
Sweet Master Nehemiah Nestlecock?
La.
I thank you courteous friend. In truth, last night,
One of my Coach-gueldings fell lame, and I,
By that constrain'd to come afoot,
Was forc'd to leave my boy at home; or else
He had come with me, to have been a comfort
To his sad Uncle: But I would not now
For twice my Gueldings price, my childe were here;
And that foule fiend i'th' house, whose very looks
Would fright him into sicknesse.
Cash.
O good Lady!
La.
I can't so soon forget the fright he took
At seeing the roguish Jugler once eat tow,
And blow it out of's mouth in fire and smoke,
He lay a fourtnight by't.
Cash.
That's two yeares since.
And he was then but young, he's now a man.
La.
Alack a childe; but going in's nineteenth year.
Where's my Neece Joyce?
Cash.
Within there Madam; so is Gabriella
The French young Gentlewoman to attend you.
La.
I'll stay with them till I may see my brother.
—Ex.
Cash.
I hope old Strygood, who now on the sudden
Hath slipt her memory, meets her by the eares first.
[Page 8] Enter Matchil, an opeu letter in his hands.
But the good minute's come, before I look't for't.
My Master now appears. He looks most sourely
Expressing more of anger then of grief.
I feare, old Strygood was so loud with me,
That he hath over-heard us, and I shall break
Before I am a Freeman.
Mat.
Sorrow be gone
And puleing grief away, whilest I take in
A nobler and more manly Passion;
Anger, that may instruct me to revenge.
My childe is lost by treacherous neglect
In that false Frenchman, to whose seeming care
I trusted the chief comfort of my life;
Matchil reades.
My boy. Nay, read again. 'Tis written, here,
He was grown man:
Cash.
His man, I think, he said.
Cash listens to Match­il, and speaks aside.
Does your man trouble you. I do not like that
Mat.
And here he writes that in his youthful spring
And heat of spirit, he began to grow
Intemperate and wilde—
Cash.
Wilde! Are you there?
Mat.
Which drew him on to riotous expence—
Cash.
And there again, to riotous expence!
'Tis I directly that he's troubled with.
Mat.
And sometimes into quarrels. What o' that?
In all this he was still mine own. Oboy—
Mat. kisses the paper.
Cash.
Some slave has writ some fearful information.
Against me, and he hugs and kisses it.
Mat.
And had his Guardian had a feeling care
(Hang his French friendship) over my dear childe,
[Page 9] As I had over his, these youthful follies
Might have been temper'd into manly vertues.
Cash.
I hear not that.
Mat.
But I fall back agen
From my revenge to grief. Away; I will not.
He reads again.
Here's the death-doing point. These slight disorders.
In my young forward sonne (I finde it here)
Were, by his churlish and perfidious Guardian,
Interpreted no lesse then Reptobation,
And, by his ignorant cruelty, so punish'd.
For, here he shuts his eare and door against him:
When suddenly the loose licentious world
Soothes on his youthful, in judicious courage
To imminent destruction; so being engag'd
In a rash quarrel, he in duel fell.
Th' Opponents sword was instrument; yet I inferre.
Lafoy, his Guarcian was his murderer.
Farewel, my boy; and this is the last teare
Thou shalt wring from me. Something I'll do,
Shall shew a fathers love, and valour too.
I'm young enough to draw a sword in France, yet.
But first—Come hither, Sirrah.
Cash.
Now it comes.
Mrt.
I purpose streight to order my estate
Look that you forthwith perfect my Accompts;
And bring me all my books of debtor and creditor,
Receipts and payments, what you have in wares,
And what in cash, let me inform my self.
Cash.
'Tis as I fear'd.
Mat.
I'll set all right and streight,
All statutes, bonds, bills, and seal'd instruments
That do concern me, I have in my Closet
Or at my Councels, or my Scriveners.
I'll call in them my selfe. Why doest thou look so amaz'dly?
[Page 10] Would'st have me yield a reason? why, I'll tell thee
I mean to make a voyage; and, perhaps,
To settle and proportion out my estate
By Will, before I go. Do you as I command you.
Cash.
Whatever he pretends, I know his drift:
And, e'te I'll be discover'd by my stay;
Being run out, I'll choose to run away.—
Ex.
Mat.
My daughter in the first place must be car'd for.
I'll make her a good match. My next in blood then,
My Knave-half-brother, and my whole fool-Sister.
But the best is, her Ladiship has enough;
And all I have, in Strygoods hands, were nothing.
Therefore I'll purpose nothing to him. Oh.
Enter Joyce and Gabriella.
The Joy and Torment of my life, at once
Appear to me. I must divide them, thus.
He thrusts off Gabriella.
Hence hated issue of my mortal foe
VVhom I have foster'd with a Parents Piety
As carefully and dearly as mine own.
VVhile the inhumane cruelty of thy Sire
Has to untimely death expos'd my sonne.
Thank me I kill not thee; so leave my house.
There's French enough in town, that may befriend you.
To pack you o're to Paris; what's your own
To Joyce.
Take w'ye, and go. VVhy cleave you to her so?
Forsake her, cast her off. Are not my words
Of force, but I must use my hands to part ye?
Jo.
Deare, honour'd father, I beseech you hear me.
In parting us you separate life from me,
[Page 11] And therein act a real crueltie
On me your only childe, sharper then that,
Which you can but pretend done by her father.
Mat.
Durst thou speak so?
Joy.
I cannot live from her.
Mat.
O monstrous. Pray, your reason. Why not live?
Joy.
You know, Sir, from our Infancie we have been,
Bred up together, by your tender care
As we had been twin-borne, and equally
Your own; and by a self-same education,
We have grown hitherto, in one affection,
We are hoth but one body, and one mind,
What Gabriella was, I was, what I, was she.
And, till this haplesse houre, you have enjoyn'd me,
Nay, charg'd me on your blessing, not to arrogate
More of your love unto my self, then her,
Mat.
That was, 'cause I presum'd her father lov'd,
Or should have lov'd my sonne, your brother.
Joy.
I never knew brother, or sister, I;
Nor my poor self, but in my Gabrella.
Then blame me not to love her, I beseech you
—Upon me knees.
Mat.
Th' art knee-deep in rebellion.
Unnatural Gipsie, since thou prov'st my torment
In being the same with her; and hast declar'd
Thy self no more my childe, then she, whom now
I do abhorre, avoid, with her, my sight.
Rise, and be gone, lest thou pull curfes on thee
Shall sink thee into earth.
Gab.
O rather, Sir.
Let me, 'gainst whom your fury first was bent
Suffer alone the sharpnesse of your vengeance:
And let it not be said, 'cause you surmise,
My father lost your son, that, therefore, you
[Page 12] Have cast away your daughter. Hurl me, rather,
Into the ruthless waves to seek my way;
Or do but take her, hold her in the armes
Of your paternal love, and I'll take flight
To weane her to you.
Joy.
She cannot, may not leave me.
Mat.
Out of my doors then, with her.—
Enter Lady Nestlecock.
La.
What's the matter? ha—
Mat.
Such as you cannot mend, deare Lady Sister.
What come you hither with your Ha—for? Ha—
La.
To comfort you, dear brother, if you'll heare me.
Your sonne is dead, they say; and here I finde
Your daughter is rebellious 'gainst; our will.
Mat.
You speak much comfort, do you not, think you.
La.
But is it so Joyce? ha!—I thought you, Joyce,
Would have rejoyc'd your father in obedience, Joyce;
And not afflict him with your stubbornnesse.
Mat.
O this impertinent woman!
La.
But my brother,
Let me advise you, rather then suffer her
To be an eye-sore to you, put her out,
Where she may learne more duty. If you please
I'll take her home, and shew her how it should be
Mat.
Yes, as you have shewen your Nestlecock, your sonne.
La.
I, there's a childe! Brother, you'l pardon me,
If I aspire in hope, that he shallbe
[Page 13] Your heire, if Joyce miscarry in rebellion.
Mat.
And therefore you would breed her. How the devil
Works in a covetous woman! Though a foole too.
Your sonne's an Asse; an Ideot; and your self
No better, that have bred him so. Do you tell me
Of your sweet sugar-chop't Nestle cockscombe?
La.
Ha—
Mat.
He's fit t' inherit nothing but a place
I'th' Spittle-house, Fools Colledge, yond, at Knights­bridge.
La.
And did I come to bring thee consolation?
Now let me tell thee, I rejoyce in thy
Just punishment, thy scourge of crosses. Thou,
That for these six years space▪ until this day,
Hast kept continual feast and jollitie
For thy wives death, who was too good for thee.
Mat.
Right, for she was my Master, a perpe [...]l
Vexation to me, while she was above-ground
Your Ladiship could not have spoke more comfort to me
Then the remembrance of that shook-off Shackle,
Which now, in my affliction makes me smile,
And were I on her grave, I could cut capers.
La.
A further punishment, I pr [...]hecie
Grows in the neck of thy leud insolence
Mat.
I could e'ne finde in heart to marry again,
In spight, now, of thy witchcraft, my son dead!
My daughter disobedient! and your childe
A very chilblaine. What have I to do
But marry again: all women are not devil [...],
I may yet get an heire unto my minde.
[Page 14] Enter Strigood.
Mat.
Art thou here too—
Stri.
Stay, you forget your brother, Mr. Matchil.
You have match'd ill once already; and take heed
You match not worse, your children, though un­toward.
And taking of the devillish Shrew, their mother,
Were likely of your own begetting; Yet
Your second wife may bring you a supply
Of heires, but who must get them, first is doubtful.
Mat.
Thy impudence amazes me.
Str.
Ha, ha.
La.
I'm sick at sight of the leud Reprobate.
Stri.
Dee cast about for heirs; and have besides
Your daughter here, a brother and a sister?
La.
Call not thy self our brother. He appears
U [...]nde to me, but thou insufferable,
I loath to look upon thee.
Stri.
He has spoke

Against her Aunt, her Moon-calf sonne. I'll make her love me best, and presently.

Brother, I say.
Mat.
I cannot look upon thee.
Provoke me not to [...]eech, I charge thee.
Str.
Give me leave to speak; Hold you your peace;
Hear but my brotherly advice; and when
Give your consent in silence.
(Mat.)
hum hum, &c.
La.
Hear him not.
(Mat.)
Nor you neither, hum—hum—hum.
La.
I am not angry with you now; and therefore
I charge you, hear him not.
(Mat.)
hum hum—
Stri.
[Page 15]
My advice is thus, that for your daughters good.
For mine own good, and for your Sisters good.
And for her sonne, your Nephew's good.
La.
How's that? ha!
Stri.
And chiefly for your own good, and the credit
A wise man would desire to hold i'th' world,
Think not of marrying, nor of buying hornes
At the whole value of your whole estate,
But match your daughter while you have the meanes
In your own hands; give her a good round portion,
Here are deserving Gentlemen i'th' house.
Next, think of me your brother, that has spent
In down-right fellowship (heaven knows what
All fraudulent purposes to make any man
A miser or a gainer by't) a faire estate.
And now do want a brotherly supply.
A hundred a year or so: but above all
Fasten your land unto yout Sisters sonne.
That hopeful Gentleman, sweet Nehemiah.
(Mat)
hum.
La.
Now brother you may hear him.
Stri.
What though it straggle from the name of Matchil.
Remember yet he is your mothers Grandchilde.
La.
Why dee not hear him, brother?—
(Mat.)
hum.
Stri.
As I hope
To be a landed man my self,
Had I a thousand yearly, I would leav't him.
La.
Trulie, I thank you. Now I'll call you brother.
Y'are a good natur'd Gentleman if you had it.
Come home, and see my sonne.—VVill you not hear him? ha
Mat.
I need not, nor your selfe. I see you gape
Like monsters that would swallow me alive.
I know your mindes; and I will do mine own.
And, thus it is. Stay, let me stay a little.
La.
[Page 16]
Look you how wilde he looks.
Stri.
He's falling mad.
Stark staring mad,
La.
I would he had a wife then,
For nothing else can tame him.
Mat.
So it shall be.
First, I'll be Master of mine own estate.
Next—
Stri.
Take a wife to master that, and you.
Mat.
Next, you Madamoiselle, (on whom with pa­tience
I cannot look) forsake my house, and suddenly;
Linger not for a man to wait upon you,
But let your black bag guard you, 'tis a fashion
Begun amongst us here by your own Nation.
And if I longer must call you my daughter,
Forsake you her.
Joy.
VVhat mine own heart? dear Sir.
Mat.
At your own choice. I can force her depar­ture,
Though not perswade your stay, determine quickly
Either to leave her, and enjoy a father,
Or never more expect a fathers blessing.
Gab.
Dear, mine own heart, leave me, obey your father.
Joy.
It must be to my death then.
[Weepes
Mat.
I'll be sudden.
Therefore be you as brief in your resolve.
La.
Alas, poor hearts. Just so loth
To part was I and my sonne Nehemiah
Today when I came forth.
Stri.
Neece Joyce, let me
Advise you.—
Mat.
Pray, Sir, none of your advices.
Let her advise her self; whilest I impart
To you my next intention; which is thus.
[Page 17] To end your strife for shares in mine estate
I'll venter on a wife: indeed I'll marry
La.
Will you so? ha!
Mat.
Yes indeed La,—
Stri.
If then
You'l estate nothing on me for my life
Give me a see to help you to a wife,
I can, a good one.
Mat.
I'll none, Sir, of your good ones.
Besides, Sir, I'm provided.
La.
You are not, are you? ha
Mat.
Let it suffice, I say't, so quit my house.
Stri.
Shall I expect then nothing?
Mat.
Pray sir, do.
'Tis all I can afford you. You have wit,
Yes, you can daunce, tread money out of rushes,
Slight and activity to live upon.
A nimble braine, quick hands and airie heels
To get a living.
Stri.
Hah.
Mat.
Pray fall to practice.
Stri.
I may, sir, to your cost, if you put off
Your daughter with her Sweet-heart, her Mon Coeur
There, as she calls her. Dear, my Lady Sister;
You see how churlishly this Merchant uses us.
He has forgot, sure, he was borne a Gentleman.
Will you be pleas'd, I speak to you in your eare.
La.
Any way, brother Strigood, Hang him, Nabal,
To warn me out o's house; and not alone,
To turne a stranger from within his gates,
But offer to cast out his childe too, ha!
Stri.
'Tis about that I'd speak, pray Madam heark you.
Enter Erasmus, Valentine.
Er.
Noble Mr. Matchil, though we are your meat
[Page 18] Before we saw you you will give us leave
To take our leaves, and thank you ere we part.
Mat.
O Gentlemen.
Val.
W'have heard your cause of sorrow.
Mat.
But I have over-past it. Heark ye Gentlemen
Eras.
You'l give us leave first to salute the Ladies.
Mat.
Nay, if you love me, heare me first.
Er. Val.
Your will, Sir.
Talk a­side.
La.
Neece, you shall no way disobey your father
In being rul'd by me.
Stri.
So, so, it takes.
La.
You and your second selfe shall home with me
Until his furious humour be blown over.
To which the first meanes is to [...] his fight,
And then let me alone to make your peace.
Joy. Gab.
We thank your Ladiship.
La.
So let us slip.
Home to my house together.
La.
Hist brother, lead the way.
Stri.
As glad as ever Fox was of his prey
Exit. [...]om. Pet. Mat. Er. Vab.
Mat.
'Tis even so, Gentlemen, sorrow findes no lodging.
In my light heart sometimes she knocks at door,
And takes a drink, but here she must not sit by't.
Val.
Y' are happy Sir.
Er.
Yet I have heard you say
You never tasted joy for divers yeares
Till your wife died: since when, a King of mirth,
And now to marry agen is such a thing.
Mat.
Yes sir, tis such a thing that I will marry
That I fore know can never disobey me
And I'll defie the devil to dishonest her.
Er.
Is she so ougly?
Val.
No, he means so vertuous.
Mat.

Well-said, sir, you shall drink before me. Ra­chel, Mawdlin.

[Page 19] 'Protest you shall though't be in my own house.
Er.
Now he resumes his humour.
Mat.
Ratchel I say,
Bring me a kan o' sack.
Er.
But how can you
Presume before the dangerous marriage-trial
That she whom y'have chosen will be obedient.
Val.
D' ye think he has not tried her? There's a question
Mat.
Well-said agen. I was about to say so.
Rachel, some sack, I say. Yes, I have tried her, sir,
Tri'd her, and tri'd her again; all over and over
These five yeares day and night; and still obedient.
Er.
Then you are sure to her.
Mat.
No, I never us'd
A marriage-question, not a woing word,
But do all by command, she is so obedient.
Val.
And yet she's chaste and vertuous withal.
Mat.
Well-said again, sir, so I was a saying.
Er.
But we have talk't away the Gentlewomen.
Mat.

No matter, let'hem go. Would they were far enough.

Ent. Rach.
Enter Rachel, silver Kan and Napkin.

Come, the sack, the sack.—Who taught you that courtesie maid.

Pray try a better to the Gentleman.
Protest you shall begin.
Val.
In your own house, sir?
Mat.

[...]'ll rather g' ye my house, then break my word in't.

Val.

Y' are Lord here, and may command me, sir. And so my service to you.

Mat.
I'll do you reason, sir.
—Val. drink.
Be ready with your Napkin, and a lower douke maid.
[Page 20] I'll hang dead weight at your buttocks else. So.
Is not this obedience, Gentlemen, Mr. Erasmus?
Mus, I will call thee Mus, I love to be
Familiar, where I love; and Godamercy
For your friend here; you both shall see my daugh­ter.
But my French Damosel and I are parted
I hope by this time. So here's to you Mus.
Er.
To me, to me, to me.
[M. drinks.
Mat.
Ha boy, art there? dispatch
Your court'sie quickly, and go cal my daughter.
[Er. drinks
Rach.
She is gone forth, forsooth.
Mat.
Forth, ha? when? whither?
La ye, she thinks I'm angry, and the finger
Is in the eye already. Is not this
Feare and obedience, Gentlemen? who went with her.
Rach.

She went with my Lady Nestlecock, to bring Gabriella on her way they said.

Mat.
I would
They were all in France together.
Er.
What, your daughter?
Mat.
She comes again, I doubt not. Dry your eyes.
And drink that sack, without a court'sie, drink it.
You do not know my meaning, Gentlemen.
Stay: now gi' me't agen.—Now go and dry
Your face within—without a court'sie? ha!
Ex. Rach.
Now is not this obedience, Gentlemen?
Val.
But this is not the rare obedient peece
That you will marry?
Mat.
You do not hear me say so.
But I presume, as much obedience
In her I have made choice of.
Er.
Marrie a maid.
[Page 21] And we will be her Hench-boyes, if you please.
Mat.
No, I'll have no such blades 'bout my wives hanches.
But come, to end this tedious Scene, in which
I ha' past the Purgatorie of my Passions
Of sorrow, anger, feare, and hope at last.
I am refin'd, sublim'd, exalted, fixt
In my true Sphere of mirth; where love's my object.
And bloodie thought of black revenge cast by.
Val.
Could your faire breast harbour a bloody thought?
Mat.
For some few minutes, in which extasie
I meant t' ha' gone, as other Gallants do.
To fight in France, forsooth, and charg'd my man
To draw up his Accompts, call in my moneys,
Thought to have made my Will—.
Er.
I saw your Cashier
Go forth e'ne now with a sttong lusty Porter
Loaden with money: I will not say my teeth
Water'd at it.
Val.
But 'twas enough to make
A very true mans fingers itch.
Mat.
I cannot
Think he is run away; but yet I like not
His carrying forth, when I say, fetch in money.
But this is from my purpose. Love ye mirth?
Let's in, and drink, and talk. That gives it birth.

ACT. II.

SCENE 1.

Camelion. Hannah.
Cam.
I prithee now, I prithee, prithie now
Urge me no more in this case; for I cannot,
[Page 22] Nor I wo' not so I wo' not, I be jealous
Os mine own wife, mine own deat flesh and blood?
That's such a thing! I pidee speak no more on't.
Han.
You shew you love Rafe.
Cam.
So I hope I do Nan.
My cock, my pity nittle nansie cocksie,
Do I not shew my love when I deny thee
Vnreasonable requests? I never heard
Of woman that desir'd a loving husband
To be a jealous Master over her.
Especially a City-Shopkeeper.
The best part of whose trade runs through the hands
Of his faire wife too! 'Tis unreasonable.
And thou the sirst that e're take up the humour.
Han.
And you the sirst that e're I knew besotted
Into a wilful confidence, which renders
Me to a vile construction; and your selfe
By leaving me to all assaults and hazards
Have got the reputation of a Wittal.
Or one that seems contented to become so.
Cam.
Hon soit qui maly ponse.
My Cock, my Nansie Cock, my Cocksie Nansie,
Kisse me, and use thine own conscience: I scorn
The yellow sicknesse, I, let 'hem all say what they will.
D'einty, come thou to me. I will not lose
An haires bredth o' my humour, nor retain
An ill thought o' my Cocks honestie
For all the wealth i' the Exchange, not I
Han.
I not desire you should, but only that
You will not seem so carelesse of my credit,
Exposing me to all temptations
Of the wilde Gallantry of the wanton time.
By whom (although my chastity remaines
Untouch't) my name and your discretion suffers.
Cam.
Pish, Honi soit again: Cock, I defie
Calumniation and detraction I.
[Page 23] When I am jealous, let the horne-curse take me;
And let me be with hornets stung to death.
Han.
Still you flie from the point, I would not have
You vex your self with causelesse jealousie
Over my constant love; but only seem
A little watchful o're my reputation.
Whereby you may decline mens leud attempts.
And not to throw me upon opportunities
To draw them on; as if I were a thing
S [...] out, as in your shop, for common sale.
Cam.
Cock, Thou shalt never tie me to't: not I.
I must not lose my harmlesse recreations
Abroad to snook over my wife at home.
Thought'st ha' me like the hair-brain'd Point-tagger,
That us'd to hammer his fingers at one end
O'th' shop, while's wife was bargaining at the other?
Not I; sweet Cock, pidee lets heare no more on't.
Enter Foot-post.
Now friend! Is your businesse to me or my wife?
Post.
This Superscription will inform you, sir.
Cam.

To my deare daughter Mrs. Hannah Camelion, at her shop or house in or near the New Ex­change.

Cock.

Take it quickly, what a Knave art thou to put a letter in my hands, that is directed to my wife. Sbobs I would not ha' open'd it for fonrty pound.

Post.

If all husbands in the City were of his minde, it were a Forrest of fooles indeed.

Cam.
Cock, I must leave thee.
Han.

Pray stay a little. This letter's from my fa­ther.

Cam.
I hope the good Captaine's well.
Han.
[Page 24]
Yes, very well, pray read his Letter here.
Cam.
Cock, you shall pardon me. Not I.
I have a match to play at the ducking-pond.
Prithee fore-slow not my occasions, Cock,
As I forbear to pry into thy secrets.
Han.

Here's nothing but what I would have you see.

There's for your postage, friend. It needs no an­swer.

Post.
I thank you, Mystris.
Ex.
Han.
But if you will not stay to reade this Let­ter.
You shall not deny me one thing.
Cam.
What is it, quickly? my sweet Nanny Cock.
Han.
Here, take this pen: write here a word or sentence.
What you please. But keep it well in minde,
And look that you be sure to know't agen
When I shall shew't you.
Cam.

'Tis done, there: I defie, and dare the de­vil and all his Clerks to counterfeit my hand. So, my sweet Cock, a kisse and adieu.

Han.
Well Rafe, remember that you won't be jea­lous.
Cam.
Not I, Sbobs yonder comes one of the Blades,
That thou would'st have me have an eye to; He
That lives by his wits, and yet is seldom sober:
That goes so gallantly, and has no credit,
Nor ever buyes with ready money; But
Barters commodity for commodity.
(Such as it is) with Tradesmens wives, they say.
What call you him, oh Askal; there's another
Comes with him too. Into thy shop, good Cock.
I wo' not stay, not I. So, farewel Cock.
Ex.
Han.
[Page 25]
And farewel Coxscombe, some wife would say now.
I am much troubled at his sillinesse.
And would to right me, straine a womans wit,
Knew I with modesty how to answer it.
Something I'le do.
Enter Erasmus, Valentine.
Er.
Was ever such a humour in a man, as this mad
Merchant Matchil is possest with.
To marry so, to spight his childe and kindred.
Val.
He has made his daughter by't a match worth nothing.
And there your hope is gone.
Er.
And yours in me.
For as I said before, good Valentine.
I must returne you to your City wives.
By the old trade to pick your maintenance
Out of em, as you boast you can.
Val.
'Tis well, sir.
And now to let you know that I can live
Without the helps of such cool friends as you.
I'le shew you a present probability.
Val.
Doest see yond pretty mumping peece i'th' shop there?
Er.
Yes, is that one—?
Val
One o'th' fourty, boy,
That renders tribute in to my Exchecquer.
Er.
Didst ever lie with her?
Val.
How plain you are. Not I, not I.
That▪s her fool-husbands word.
Let it sussice that I have seen her thrice.
And that I lay with, drink, and weare her money.
O 'tis the sweetest Rogue.
Er.
How got you acquainted.
Val.
[Page 26]
I'le tell you that, walking by chance as now,
Before her shop, where a young Gentleman
Was bargaining, he call'd me by my name,
Val Askall.
Instantly her eye was fixt,
And streight ran over my delineaments,
Which I set to her view; and took occasion
To ask her how the object pleas'd her.
Er.
Bold-face.
Val.
I never lost by that.
She then demands, Is your name Askall, sir?
I answer, Yes. Pray of what countrey, sir?
I told her; when a sudden flaming blush
Did in her face betray the fire of love,
That was at th' instant raging in her breast,
She look't me through and through. Sigh'd, turn'd away.
Then look't again under her hat-brims thus.
And thus I nimbly catch't her with mine eye.
Er.
I, thou hast a devillish catch i'that same eye.
Val.
Sir, what I have, I have. I gave a leere
With that same eye that made her turne her whitesup.
Er.
But to the point.
Val.
Why do you think a woman's so quickly brought to th' point?
Er.
VVhat follow'd then?
Val.
I saw she was struck, and thus I gave her line
To play withal. I whisper'd in her eare,
The way to finde my lodging and my service.
Next morning early comes a message to me,
Inviting me to dinner: Chear and welcome
Plenteously flowed; and sir, before we parted
Upon some private conference, twenty pieces
Were clutch't into this hand, but with a caution
To be discreet and thrifty of her purse,
And keep a friend in store. I have been modest,
And have not struck her since, but for ten more.
Er.
[Page 27]
And that's your last.
Val.
I le hold you ten o that
See she has spied me.
Han.

VVhat lack ye, Gentlemen; faire cut-work bands, boot-hoose, or boot-hoose tops, shirts, wast-coats, night-caps, what will you buy?

Val.
I come not now to buy.
But in plain termes to borrow. Do you not know me?
Han.
Not on these termes.
Er.
Sure thou mistak'st the woman.
This is not she, thou talk'st fo freely on Bounce.
Val.
She's cautious before thee. Walk off a little.
Now you may hear me, Lady.
Han.
Give me leave
A little, first to wonder at your rashnesse,
To talk so openly before a stranger.
Val.
My intimate friend: I'le trust him with my life.
Han.
What's that to my unblemish't reputation?
'Tis not your life can salve that, being wounded.
But thus it is, when women out of goodnesse
Hazard their fortunes to relieve the wants
Of such as you, that carry no respect,
But to your own licentious Appetites.
And think no favour's sweet, unlesse you may
Have priviledge to boast 'hem to our shame.
Val.
I do not boast of yours.
Han.
Pray, boast no more
Then you have found, and much good may they do you.
'Tis not poor thirty pieces can undo me.
Val.
No, nor ten more I hope; and that's the summe
I would entreat: all makes but fourty pound.
I'll pay thee like a Gentleman, as I am one,
Either in money; or doest hear me, Rogue,
In what shall please thee better. Come, be wise,
[Page 28] Thy husband's a dull ducking Gamester. And
Kennels his water-dog in Turnbull-street.
We'll answer his delights with better sport.
Han.
There's your presumption.
Val.
No, 'tis my ambition.
When shall we walk to Totnam? or crosse o're
The water, or take Coach to Kengington
Or Padington; or to some one or other
O'th' City out-leaps for an afternoon,
And hear the Cuckow sing to th' purpose? when?
Had.
A woman were a wise one that would trust
Her selfe in such wilde hands as yours; to have
Her name made Tavern-talk among your blade,
And thrust i'th 'list of your loose-hilted Mystresses:
Val.
O no; fie no: you cannot think how close
And careful I will be. Heark in thine eare.
Er.
I cannot blame this fellow now so much
For using of his wits to get his living,
Though in an idle way; as for traducing
People of worth and vertue, as this woman
Who I am credibly inform'd is vertuous
And too discreet for him to shark upon.
Therefore to grace himself, he slanders her.
I have alwayes lik't his company till now,
And shall hereafter be more wary of him.
Han.
Well sir, upon pour faithful protestation,
And vow of secresie, liere's ten pieces more.
You have found a tender-hearted woman of me
Over your wants; and all the satisfaction
That I desire, is, that I may not suffer
Under a lavish tongue; 'tis easie payment.
Val.

Yes, but I'le pay thee better. Therefore tell me, when we shall meet and have a spirta­broad.

Han.
Your friend stayes for you, sir.
Val.
Pish, let him stay.
Han.
[Page 29]

You slight him now, but he knows all your Councels.

Val.

By this good tongue, no more then the un­begotten Hans that I mean to clap into thy Kel­der.

Nor ever shall: doest think I am so foolish
To talk away my hopes? No, thou art my Faery,
Pinch me to death when I discover thee.
Han,
Go to, avoid suspition then, besides
I have occasions that do call me hence.
Ex.
Er.
Your stay was somewhat long.
Val.
Yet 'twas to purpose.
As here you may behold, but I must make no words on't.
[1. 2, 3, 4, &c.
She has enjoyn'd me that. O'tis a cunning Gypsie.
Er.
So't seems, by trusting thee that hast no pow­er to keep a secret.
Val.
Troth, to tell you true.
My conscience will not beare't, I cannot be
So ungrateful to receive a courtesie,
But to acknowledge it.
Er.
Yet thou hast the conscience
To work a mans estate out of his hands
By his wives frailty, even to break his back.
Val.
'Tis rather to be fear'd she may break mine.
She's a tight strong dock't Tit.
Er.
O Tradesmen, why do you marry?
Val.
Why? to make Tradeswomen.
For Gentlemen that want money and commodity.
You know the thing that I call father in [...],
That had my mothers whole estate, and butied her,
Allowes me nothing.
Er.
Thank your own sweet courses.
Val.
My courses are sweet courses, they serve me to live upon.
Er.
But I shall put you off
[Page 30] O'one of your sweet courses, or at least
I'le strain a point of friendship to be satisfied
Touching this woman, 'twill be worth discovery.
Val.
But why these cloudy looks? do not you like my courses? ha▪
Er.
I cry thee mercy, Val.
I was upon our former subject Matchil.
Val.
I there's a hasty match clap't up. You ask't
Why Tradesmen marry, there's a marriage now!
A humorous Coxscombe that could never laugh
In all his last wives dayes; and since her death
Could ne're be sad. For him to marry his Malkin
For poor and course obedience. Well. I hope
To take my course in his house yet for all.
Her boasted chastity and obedience.
Er.
Wouldest thou touch such a thing?
Val.
What, not for money?
She can pay well and her uglinesse cannot fright me
I can do that work winking.
Er.
She can be no such woman.
Val.
Tell not me
What any woman can or cannot be,
You'll give me leave to try my fortune with her,
Er.
Yes, and walk with you towards it.
Ex. Ambo.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Lady Nestlecock, Ephraim.
La.
No newes, no tidings of 'em, Ephraim, ha!
Was even sucg a scape?
Eph.
Not since the Rape
Of H [...]llon [...] I'm perswaded. I have search't
With narrow eyes (as I may say) with care,
And diligence in most secret places.
And can no way inform my self, what is
Betide of the young Damosels, or old Squire.
Your Neece, and the French Virgin, and the man
[Page 31] Unworthy to be call'd your brother Strigood.
La.
O hang him Villain.
Eph.
Doubtlesse 'twas his plot
To work upon your Ladiships good nature
To harbour them, that he might take th' advantage
Of stealing them away.
La.
What to do, ha?
Eph.
To do? much may be done by his seducements,
On two such tender Virgins, though he should
But plant them in our suburbs: but my feare
Is that he has transported them beyond seas
Into some Nunnery. Your Ladiship
Knows he is adverse in Religion.
La.
I know he is of none.
Eph.
Satan will work.
The stronger in him, then to their subversion.
La.
How shall I answer now my brother Matchil?
But he is justly serv'd to marry so.
The thought of it torments me. Where's my comfort?
Where's Nehemiah, ha?
Eph.
He's busie, Madam.
La.
What, at his book? or at his musick, ha?
Eph.
That is, his Ballet, or his Jewes Trump. No,
Madam. He is busie at his exercise of Armes
With a new Casting top, a Cat and Catstick,
I bought and brought him home.
La.
I thank you for 'hem,
My careful discreet Ephraim. I like
His harmlesse exercises well.
Eph.
I hope,
Your Ladiship can say since I have had
The Government of him under your Ladiship,
I have been careful of the Gentleman,
And have his love withal so much, that I
Dare say (I hope you'll pardon the comparison)
That had you married me (which was as likely
[Page 32] As that your brother would have ta'ne his Maid.
I think that Mr. Nehemiah would not
Have run away in hatred of our Match,
As Mrs. Joyce. it seems, hath done of theirs.
I hope your Ladiships pardon, I understand
My duty.
La.
And you speak but reason Ephraim.
Eph.
I have given her there a touch of my affection.
Who knowes how it may work?
La.
Go call him in.
I would not have him over heat himself.
Eph.
'Tis a good care. And Madam, by the way,
Let me advise, that since his riper yeares
Require, and that faire Propositions
Of marriage are tender'd for him, that
We gently by degrees, do take him off
From childish exercise, indeed plaine boyes play.
More manly would become him.
La.
You would have him
Do worse then, would you? and be nought, you var­let?
What! would you have him play at Mans-game, ha?
Fore he be married, ha! what, what! how now!
Is it but up and ride w'ye, ha!
Eph.
I humbly
Beseech your Ladiships pardon, I will call
Sweet Mr. Nehemiah to your worship.
La.
Go, th'art an honest man. I know thou lov'st him.
Ex. Ep [...].
Indeed he's all my comfort and my care
And I must naturally respect all those
That do partake with me my care of him.
Enter Nehemiah, looking down and eating.
Neh.
my boy Negh, Sonne Nehemiah.
Neh.
F'sooth.
La.
[Page 33]
That's my good Lamb. Hold up thy head; and thou.
Shalt have a wife.
Neh.
But mother f sooth, when I have her,
Will she play with me at peg-top?
La.
At any thing, my boy.
Neh.
And she ha' not good box and steel, I shall so grull her.
And then at Mumbledepeg I will so firk her.
La.
But when y'are married, you [...]ll finde other pa­stime.
Neh.
Whate're I say, I have a meaning though.
But yet, I doubt, I shall not forsake all
My old fagaries in a yeare or two.
La.
I know thy will is good to leave thy wag-tricks.
And I commend your understanding in it.
It shewes you man, and ready for a wife.
Neh.
Amardla, f'sooth, I think so; I Amardla.
For I did beat a boy as high as my selfe
Yesterday, with one hand.
La.
Where was thy tother.
Neh.
The boy had but one hand f'sooth. I us'd both.
La.
Well th'art too witty to live long, I feare.
But as I was saying, sonne, I do expect
Sir Swithen Whimtby to bring his Neece.
Neh.
Who f [...]sooth, the crying Knight, he that has wept
E're since his Lady di'd; and mournes in colours;
Speaks nothing but in verse, and gives me Ballats;
The old Knight Powel, that pronounces what dee call 'hem?
La.
Odes childe and Elegies. He has been in­spir'd.
With the infection of Poetry,
E're since his wives departure: and 'tis thought
[Page 34] Nothing can put him out, or cure him of it
But a new wife to kill the furious itch of't,
Neh.
But is not his Neece too big for me? I would be loth
To be over-match'd.
La.
O witty, witry, still.
But when she comes Nehemiah, What'll you say to her?
Neh.
I'll give her the time of the day or the night
I warrant her, come at what houre she will.
Why if I eat not all before she come.
(And she must try her, if I do'nt) I'll ask her
If she can speak with plums in her mouth; and then
I'll offer her a long one and two round ones,
And nod at her.
La.
You will not, will you, ha?
Neh.
Mother, I know both what to say and do
I trust I am not to be taught to wooe.
La.
Too witty still, I say, to be long-liv'd.
Neh.
But heark you mother f'sooth; I am told that you
Beare a moneths minde to that Sir Whimlby,
And a crosse match is talk't on betwixt you
And the old Knight, and me and his young Neece.
O ho—is't so?
La.
This is no crafty childe.
Neh.
Let me but see how you will handle him now
And mark how I'le come over her with small Jerks.
La.
O th'art a witty wag. A blessing on it.
Enter Ephraim, ushering Whimlby and Blith.
Eph.
Madam, Sir Swithen Whimlby and his Neece,
Mrs. Blith Tripshort.
La.
They are very welcome,
Noble Sir Swithen.
[Kisse.
Neh.
Noble Mrs. Blith.
[Kisse.
La.
[Page 35]
Sweet Knight, y'are welcome.
Neh.
Welcome, sweet Lady.
La.
Still weeping.
Whi.
O good Madam.
Neh.
Still weeping for a husband.
Bli.
Ha, ha, ha.
Neh.
Mother, she puts me on't,
She laughes.
La.
Laugh with her then.
Neh.
Amardla, so I will, and if you laugh
At me, I'll laugh at you again, so I will.
Bli.
Ha, ha.
Neh.
Are you there with me? I'le be here with you then.
Will you eat any Sugar-plums? no, I'le eat 'em for you.
There's ha, ha, ha, ha, for you now.
La.
Do you note, Sir Swithin, what a wag it is.
Walk into the next room Nehemiah. Did you note him?
Ex. Neh. Blith.
Whi.
Madam, to tell you true.
My love to you
Springs from the joy,
I take in your sweet boy
—Eph. And that's the way to win her.
I can take no delight
But in his sight,
Nor any pride
Since my dear Grissel di'd,
In all, I see on earth or finde in books,
But that which overcomes me in his lookes.
La.
O sweet Sir Swithen, you have all woo'd and won me.
Eph.
Then all my hopes are frustrate.
La.
My sonne shall have your Neece, and for mine own part.
You loving him so well, of what's in me.
[Page 36] I can deny you nothing.
Whi.
Gentle Madam.
Eph.
She offers up her selfe; now may the proverb
Of proffer'd service light upon her.
La.
Nay, Sir Swithen.
Let me entreat you to leave weeping now.
Whi.
Madam, I cannot so
Forego my woe.
For while I strive
My solace to revive,
I do but still restore
My grief, before
That did beti'd
When my dear Grissel did.
And when your Ladiship appears in sight.
(Pardon) I cannot chuse but cry out-right.
La.
Alas, good Knight. He weeps pure Helicon.
He has not wherewithal to quench his love,
But his own teares. A wife would cool him better.
Why sir, does sight of me renew your grief?
Whi.
O Madam, Madam, yes;
In you the blisse,
That I do misse,
I finde inshrined is.
And till, to ease my paine,
I shall regain
In you the Bride,
That in my Grissel di'd.
So oft as she in you to me appears
My numbers cannot cease to flow in tears.
La.
Good sir, collect your self, and be assur'd
I am your own, so Neh. may have your Neece,
With her full Dowry of foure thousand pounds.
My personal estate is full as much.
That and my self are yours on the crosse marriage,
You making me an answerable Joincture.
Eph.
[Page 37]
Is't come so near; I'le crosse it, or my star▪
Drop crosses on my head. O vain, vain woman,
To doat on Poetry in an old man.
Ladies may love it in the young and bold,
And when they are sick give gally-pots of gold,
For cordial Electuaries to chear
Their crop-sick Muses; but to an old and sere
Man that out-lives his labours, who can be
So vain to give her self away but she.
I had been sitter for her, and I'le watch
Occasion yet, perhaps, to crosse the match,
I can tu [...]n Poet too.
Ex.
La.
Dry now your eyes, and answer me in prose,
Are you content to yield to those conditions
I have propounded, ha!
VVhim.
I am content.
And now for joy could weep,
Finding my Grissel in your Ladiship.
La.
I hope the young ones do accord as well.
Enter Nehemiah, Blith.
Bli.
Protest, I cannot abide you.
Neh.
Nor I you.
Amardla, that I cannot.
Whim.
They'r agreed.
Madam, it seems they both are of one minde.
La
I do not like it. What's the matter Nehemiah?
Neh.

She is no wife for me, she has broke my Jewes-trump; look you here else. And almost broke my head with one of my bounding stones.

La.

Blesse my boy; she has not, has she, ha!

Neh.

And yet after all that, and for all I offered to teach her to shoot in my Trunk and my Stone-bowe, do you think she would play with me at Trou, Ma­dam? no, nor at any thing else. I'll none of her.

[Page 38] And yet I'le have her too. If she will promise to do as I would have her hereafter.

La.
There, do you note him there, Sir Swithen?
This childe has no childish meaning in't, I war­rant you.
Whim.
No Madam, no, I know him inwardly
He is my joy, and she shall be conformable,
Or fare the worse.
La
She will, I know she will.
Will you not have my son, sweet Mrs. Blith?
Bli

Sweet Madam, what to do? ha, ha, I shall be quickly weary with laughing at him. His fooling will soon be stale and [...]edious; and then to beat him would be as toilsome to me; and lastly, to be tied to nothing but to cuckold him, is such a common Town-trick, that I scorne to follow the fashion.

La
Can she talk thus? ha!
Whim.
A merry harmlesse Girle.
Fear not, good Madam, she will come about.
Bli.
A thousand mile about rather then meet him.
La.
I much desire she would; for now my sonne
Is set a marrying, I warrant it pure thing
It is in paine, till it be at it: ha!
Pray bring her on, Sir Swithen, let him kisse her.
Poor heart, he licks his lips; and look how arseward she is.
Whi.
Fie Blith, be courteous, Blith.
Neh.
Mother,—she has spit Amard just in my mouth.
Bli.
Amard, what's that? if you speak French you wrong me.
La.
Gip, Mrs. Tripshort. Is this the manners your Mother left you?
Bli.
Speak not you of Mothers, Madam.
La.
Sir [...]w [...]then, will you s [...]e my childe abus'd so, ha?
Whim.
[Page 39]

I can but grieve for't, Madam.

Neh.

My mother is as good as your mother, so she is, for all she's dead.

La.

I, well-said Neh.

Bli.
Yes, it appears in your good breeding
Your fine qualities expresse her vertues sussiciently.
La.

How dare you Huswife talk thus to my son, of me, and before my face too? ha! Sir Swithen, can you think well of me, and suffer this, ha?

Whim.

Alas, good Madam, I am down again I know not what to think of living woman now.

La▪

Do you bring your Neece to abuse me?

Whim.

I am so drown'd in teares, that I cannot [...]ee what to say to't.

Neh.

Mother, Amardla, the more I look on her, the better I like her.

La.

Sayest so, my boy. Besides, I have a conceit she can out-scold you▪ and that's more then ever woman did, I think f'sooth.

La.

For thee, I do forbear her.

Enter Matchil, Rachel.
Mat.

By your leave, my Lady Nestlecock, I have brought a sister of yours here to salute you.

La.

Though unworthy to be of your Counsel, or at the Ceremony, I heard you were married brother. And by a Sisters name you are welcome.

Rac.

I thank your Ladiship.

Mat.

Sir Swithen Whimlby! and your pretty Neece! well met, what affairs have you in hand here? what do you cry for your old wife still or for a new one? But heark, you Lady Sister, where's my daugh­ter?

La.

Now for a tempest. Truly sir, I know not.

Mat.

Is shenot with you, ha?

La.
[Page 40]
No truly, sir.
She's slipt from me with her good Uncle Strigood.
Mat.
That Thief has sold her then into some Baw­dihouse
Was this your project for her education,
To steal my childe to make a whore of her?
Are you turn'd Lady b [...]ud now for your Neece
Because you have no daughter? O the devil!
If there be Law, I'll trounce your Lady Hagship.
La.

VVhat, what? how now? do you taunt me, sirrah, ha?

Mat.

I'll make thee an example.

La.

Thou hast made thy self an example, and the scorne of thine own childe in marrying of thy drudge there; and thats the cause of her running away thou mayest think, because she hates to live where she must call her mother that was thy droile.

Ra.

Droile, I think, she said.

Mat.

Speak to her, I charge thee, on thy obedience to speak to her.

Ra.

The droile is now your brothers wife, Madam, and in that setting your Ladiships lavish tongue aside, as good a woman as your selfe, none disprais'd, ha.

Mat.

Well-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel. And so to you, sir Sw then.

Neh.

Mother, come away, mother.

La.

By and by, my boy.

Rac.

Do you presume to call me drudge and droile, that am a Ladies Sister every day in the week; and have been any time these three dayes, ha.

Bli.

That's not every day in a whole week yet.

La.

Thou shalt not dare to call me sister Hus­wife.

Ra.

Cods so, and why troe? because a Lady scornes to be a huswife, ha. If you be no huswife, I sc [...]rn to call [Page 41] you Sister, I; though my husband be your brother. From whence came you troe, ha?

La.

I know not what to say to the bold-face.

Neh.

Pray f'sooth come away, I am afear'd she'l beat you.

La.

Thanks, my good childe, but do not be afraid my Lamb.

Ra.

Boldface, ha! Her brothers wife▪s a bold-face, but her face is not varnish't over, yet like his Lady­sisters face, but it may be in time when she learnes the trick on't, and have as many flies upon't, though not so troubled with 'hem, as a bald mare at Midsummer, hah.

La.

I know not what to say to her, she has charm'd the vertue of my tongue.

Mat.

I never heard her speak so much in all her life, Sir Swithin, nor half so loud. hank heaven, she has a voice yet on a good occasion. And so farre I'll maintain her in it. Nephew Nehemiah, when saw you your Cousin Joyce.

Neh.

O Lud, O mother f'sooth, look you, mine Uncle holds me.

Mat.

Ah, naughty man, did a so gi▪me a stroke, and I'll beat it, [...]h—.

La.

Your wife has taught you to play the rude companion, has she? Pray take her home sir, and let her discipline your owne childe if you have one, and let mine alone. You know the way you came, sir; or if you have a minde to stay here, Come Sir Swithen, come away children; I hope I shall finde some other room in mine own house, free from your assaults, if not, I'm sure there's Law against Riots. Come Sir Swithen.

Mat.
Not yet good Madam Nestlecock, you shall hear me.
You have entic'd away, then lost my daughter.
[Page 42] And now y'are a jugling with your widow wit,
And your small worme here, to catch up for Gudge­ons.
Sir Swithen and his Neece, I know your plot..
She's not fit match for you Sir Swithen; and her son
Much lesse for your faire Neece. Come dry your eyes,
And look upon him, and not only look,
But laugh at him, I charge you.
Bli.
I could now for him heartily.
Mat.

Mark how his mothers milk drops at his nose, while I shew you the mother and the childe.

He was her youngest sonne, and all that's left of seven, and dreaming that he needs must prove a Prophet, she has bred him up a fool.

Neh.
F'sooth mother he mocks me, oh.—
La.

O prophane wretch, worse then thy brother Strigood.

Do not cry, Nehemiah, peace, good boy, peace. So so.
Mat.
A tender mother I must say she has been.
For till he was fifteen, none but her selfe
Must look his head, or wash his pretty face
For making of it cry. Laugh at her good Sir Swithen.
And before that, till he was twelve yeares old
She would dance him on her knee, and play with's Cock.
Wh [...]m.
Ah ah ah ah.—
Mat.
So well-said, Sir Swithen.
Whim.
Just so efac my mother would serve me, ha, ha.
Is not this better then whining.
Yes, or perhaps then wiving either.
Rac.
Do you say so.
Wh.
Ha, ha.
Mat.

Well said, Sir Swithen, laugh on. I hope I ha' done a cure on him, by shewing him a [Page 43] more ridiculous object then himselfe, to turne the tide of's tears.

Wh.
Ha, ha.
Mat.
Laugh still, defie the fiends, women, and all their works.
Wh.

Ha, ha, ha, let the dead go, and the quick care for themselves. You buri'd your wife, and cri'd, and I buried mine.

And laugh; which is the manlier Passion.
Ra.
He knows not that he is married agen.
Whi.
You are the merriest Merchant, ha, ha, ha.
I think I shall not marry again in haste, ha, ha.
Mat.
Well-said, hold there. And for your Neece
Let me alone. I'le fit her with a match.
I know a Lad that's worthy of her.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.—
Mat.
He [...]ll laugh too much, I feare.
Ra.
He may at you,
For your officiousnesse.
Mat.
How's that?
Whi.
Ha, ha.—
Ra.
To thrust your self into unthankful offices.
In things concerne you not. Will you turne Matchmaker
For others un-intreated, 'tis enough.
For you, I hope, that you have match't your selfe, ha.
Mat.
Hah! Do you hab, or talk to me?
Ra.
Who else
Should talk or give you counsel but your wife?
La.
VVell-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel.
Mat.
I am match't again.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.
Mat.
Pax, cry again, or burst thy self with laugh­ing.
Whi.
La. Ha, ha, ha. Laugh son Nehemiah.
Neh.
Ha, ha. ha.
Mat.
[Page 44]
What am I? what do you make of me?
La.

Nay, what ha' you made your self? best ask the Chimney piece that you have married there.

Mat.
Durst thou advance a voice against me, ha?
Ra.
You did commend it in me against your Si­ster.
And I may better be familiar with you;
Hah, are you not my husband? I am sure
'Tis not so long since we were married, that
You can forget it, or [...]epent so soon.
I am not now your slave, to have my face
Wash't with your snuffes, nor to be kick't and trod on
VVithout resistance, nor to make you answers
Meerly with silent court'sies, run when you bid go
To fetch and carry like your Spaniel,
In which condition I liv [...]d long enough,
And was content until [...]ou freed me out on't.
Now free I am, and will be a free woman,
As you are a free-man, ha.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.
Mat.
O base-borne begger.
Ra.
You wrong your wife in that.
Mat.
How she holds up the wife.
Ra.
I never beg'd
Nor mov'd a lip to be your wife, not I,
You held my service portion good enough,
And for my blood 'tis no more base then yours,
Since both are mixt in marriage.
Mat.
Come your way.
And let me hear you speak so much at home.
Ra.
I hope I may be bolder in mine own house.
So Madam, for the love I have found in yours,
You shall be welcome thither, when y' are sent for.
La.
What a bold piece of Kitchin-stuffe is this?
Brothery' are match't.
Whi.
[Page 45]
And catch't ifacla, ha, ha, ha.
La.
He has not a word to speak.
Mat.
Follow me home and durst.
Ex.
Ra.
Yes sir, I dare without more leave taking, ha.
Ex.
La.
Was ever combe so cut.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Neh.
There's a new Aunt indeed! she brought me nothing.
Whi.
I have not laught so much I know not when,
H'has made me laugh until I cry agen.
La.
Again, you are welcom, Sir, Mrs. Blith
Now the unwelcome guests are gone, lets in
And dine, then will we after meat
Whi.
Of Joinctures, Madam, and of Nuptials treat.
La.
Right sir.
Bli.
Love, as I shall adore thee for a deity.
Rid me of this ridiculous society.

Act. III.

Scoen. 1.

Enter Matchil, Rachel, between Erasmus and Valentine.
Eras.

GOod Mr. Matchil.

Val.

Mystris, be not so violent.

Ra.

Ha.

Mat.

I'll rather run my Countrey, Gentlemen, then endure her.

Ra.

You were best to kill her then, and then you'll have no other course to take, unlesse you stay and be­hang'd.

Mat.
[Page 46]

I'le make thee glad to flie first.

Ra.

From my house and husband shall I? from my possessions shall I? And leave you all to spend in riot shall I? No sir, I'le stay and spend my share if you go to that, that will I. And make all flie as well as you, and you go to that, that will I, ha.

Mat.

Whoop, whow.

Er.

Nay, fle be not so loud.

Mat.

What didst thou bring thou drudge thou.

Ra.

That which you were content to drudge withal, I am too sure o' that. The drudge you speak of is no worse then your own wife, I am too sure o'that.

Mat.

I know not what to say to her.

Ra.

Did you not fay for better, for worse? And if 'twere worse then 'tis, 'twere all too good for you. And that I hope I shall finde some good Friend to know.

Val.

That I like well, I'le be her first man.

Ra.

I trust you have found the drudge to be a woman fit to content a man, and if you grant not that, some better man perhaps shall be a Judge, betwixt you and the drudge.

Val.

Better still.

Mat.

She threatens hornes. I think.

Ra.

Hornes. I think, you said. If 'twere so 'twere too good for you. Cannot your own wife content you, ha?

Val.

She holds up that point stoutly.

Ra.

That shall be tri'd.

Mat.

O for an expert Chyrurgion now to cast her in a dead sleep, and geld her.

Er.

Introth you will be both sorry, when your passion gives but least way to your understandings. Mr. Matchil, let me perswade with you.

Mat.

Never uniesse you bring her on her knees, to crave forgivenesse at my foot.

Val.
[Page 47]

If you but yield an inch he treads upon your neck, I will not give an under spur-leather for you. But bear it out bravely, and I'll be your servant.

Er.

Mrs. Matchil.

Ra.

Mrs. Match-ill indeed, to be so match't.

Mat.

So match't▪ how match't? what from the hur­den sinock with lockram upper-bodies, and hempen sheets, to weare and sleep in Holland, and from the dripping-pan to eat in silver, [...]ha. Do you repine at your Match, ha. Is wealth contemptible to you?

Ra.

I was better content in my povertie. I have not been my selfe, Gentlemen, since he marri­ed me.

Mas.

You may be poor again as soon as you please, the door is open, depart at your pleasure; you know the way to your old Aunt the Apple-woman, at Hock­ly-hole. Take your knitting Needles again, and live with her, go.

Ra.

No sir, I'll stay with you, and make you as poor before I have done wi' ye, as I was before you had me Gent. I shall not be my self till then.

Mat.

The devil you shall. Was ever such a crook­ed condition crept into a thing like woman?

Val.
Yet this sir, is the rare piece of obedience
You boasted of, and said you would defie
The devil to dishonest her, I am sorry
Your judgement led you into such an errour,
Already she's my Mystresse.
Mat.
Is she so?
Ra.
Yes, and I [...]le call him servant, Gentlewomen use it.
Val.
Do so, Mystresse.
Mat.
If she, sir, be your Mystresse, Then am I
Your Master-in-law, out of my house I charge you.
Er.
Doest thou conspire to grieve him?
Val.
Troth, sir, I did but jest. You have my pity.
Er.
[Page 48]

All are not times for Jest, friend Valentine.

Mat

O my affliction!

[She looks in her Watch.
Er.

Have a little patience, sir.

While I talk calmly with her.
Mat.
Leave me then
A while unto my thoughts. Go into the house.
Ra.
Pray servant help me here a little. Do so much
As winde up my Jack for me, my Watch I would say.
Val.
Her Jack▪ she's in the Kitchin still.
A pretty Watch this, Mystresse, what did you pay for't.
Ra.

Nothing, my husband ga't me.

Val.

Pity the Spring is broke, but I can get it mended.

Ra.

Good servant take it with you then to the Jack-makers, I would say, the Watch-makers. Come Gentlemen, shall we have a crash at cards?

Er.

With all my heart. What is your game?

Ra.

I can play a many old games. One and thirty bone-ace, Tickle me quicklie, and my Ladies hole, and sichie. But you shall teach me new ones, though I lose money for my learning, Gleek and Primero, Gresco saut, primofistula, I know all by hear-say. Come let us have a bout at somewhat. I have money e­nough.

Val.

And I'le make shift to ease you of some on't.

Ex. three.
Mat.
Affliction on affliction hourely findes me,
And layes me on the Rack, tearing my heart
Like greedie vultures, O my heart, this heart
That I so long suppos'd impenetrable
By all the darts of sorrow, is now transfixt,
Shot through and through with torments, and by this.
[Page 49] This last made sensible of all the rest.
My sons untimely death, my daughters losse.
My Sisters follies, and my Brothers vices.
My servants falshood, and the jeers of strangers
Now wound me all at once; and all through this
Predominant blow, pull'd on me by mine own
Impetuous rashnesse. Let me here consider,
While my hearts torture keeps my soule awake,
The moving cause of all these ill effects.
Mine own unbridled wilde affections.
Scorne of example, and contempt of counsel.
I cannot but observe withal, how just,
A judgement follows mine own wilful acts,
In the same kinde of doing ills for ills.
For my lost sonne, I rashly wrought revenge
Upon an innocent Girle; and with her
Have lost mine own; and for th'unmanly joy
I took in one wives death, because a Shrew.
(Though otherwise vertuous) I am in another
Trebly tormented; not alone with noise,
But with a feare of unchaste purposes,
Which if they come to act, my purse must pay for.
I see my faults, and feel the punishments.
And rather then stand out in my defence
T'enjoy some peace, I will endure some sorrow
And beare it civilly. Within there.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Sir.
Mat.
Go call your Mystresse, pray her to come a­lone.
Ex. Ser▪
My resolution brings me yet some ease:
Men that are borne to serve, must seek to please.
[Page 50] Enter Rachel.
Mat.

Rachel.

Ra
Your pleasure quickly, I have left
My company, my servant, and my friend yond,
Sawing against one another at Corne the Caster; till I come to 'hem.
Mat.

And then all three to In and In, is't so?

Ra.
My servant, and my friend and I are e'ne all one.
They are the goodest Gentlemen, the best com­pany.
Mat.

Your servant and your friend.

Ra.

Yes, and my servant playes for me now in my absence, as farre as ten pieces go that I left him. My plow goes there, though I am here.

Mat.

Your plow makes vile baulkes of my money the while.

Ra.

I am not so ill a huswife as you imagine. And my friend, and my servant have promis'd to carry me abroad, to this town, and to that town, and tother town, and whow, I know not whither. And my ser­vant will have me to Hide-Park he sayes, to see and to shew all, as well as the brave Gallants.

Mat.

This is gallant indeed.

Ra.

And my friend will carry me to a whatdeecall, a new Academy, where I shall see the rarest musick and dancing, he sayes, and learn the finest Complements. and other courtly qualities that are to be had for mo­ney, and such instructions for the newest fashions

Mat.

She will flie to the devil for fashions sake. Pray stay a little, and let me talk calmely with you. You have almost broke my heart.

Ra.

But not altogether, I hope. I would not win so great a game, without some sport in playing it.

Mat.
Hear me.
[Page 51] I know you put on this affected carriage,
But to try masterie, and the disease
Being so general among all women,
Is in you therefore more excusable.
Ra.
O, are you coming?
Mat.
Hear what I will say to you.
And finde in that a husbands good affection.
I love my peace, and would preserve my honour,
Both which are in your breasts to save or spoil.
Ra.
And can you think the way to purchase peace
Is by a war with me? hah, you are cozen'd.
Do you think your domineering looks, or noise,
Or blowes, can fright me into quietnesse,
Or that you shall have honour by abasing
Your wife?
Mat.
You will not understand me.
Ra.
Hah.
Mat.
Though I love peace, and would preserve my honour.
I'le yield in both to you, and can, (I have been
So us [...]d to thraldome) But the world, the world
Is such a Talker.—
Ra.
I have found the man.
Mat.
There I would save a reputation.
Ra.
He's loth to bring it out; I'le close w'ye.
You'll be content so, I will suffer you
To bear a loud command o're me in publick,
That I shall carrie it in private. Is't not so?
Mat.
Truly wife, yes.
Ra.
You'll give me leave to beat you
In private then.
Mat.
Nay, we'll bar blowes at all times.
Ra.
But if I chance to give you a rap or two,
Or now and then a nip, and you strike me
Again, I'le strike you some way else, as you
Would not be struck. And so observe my carriage.
[Page 52] The Gentlemen are coming.
Enter Erasmus, Valentine.
Er.
O, here they are.
Val.
And not by the eares: that's wonderful.
Ra.
Sir, I perceive my errour, and repent it.
Promising you in all my after life,
To be a faithful and obedient wife.
Val.
He has fetch't her about, it seems.
Mat.
Grammercy Rachel, binde it with a kisse.
[Kisse.
Er.
And thus it should be.
Mat.
Gentlemen, have ye found us?
Er.
With joy to see this reconciliation.
Mat.
Thus shall ye see it ever, Gentlemen.
I knew she would yield, or I should make her heart ake.
What were a husband, if he were not Master?
Val.
You have wonne the sield, it seems, yet I may hope
I have not lost a Mystresse.
Er.
Nor I a friend.
Mat.
In a faire way, Gentlemen, I shall
Abridge her of no courtly priviledge.
But no more haytie twaytie tricks, I charge you.
She shall not jaunt to this nor that town with you.
(I thank you for your care) nor to Hide-Park.
Nor to the Academy you tell her of, without my leave.
Val.
And do you say so Mystresse?
Ra.
Truly yes.
I am no such woman as you took me for,
With Mr. Matchils leave you may be welcome
Home to his house in good and seemly sort.
Put pray expect no further entertainment
Then he shall well allow of.
Val.
[Page 53]
I have lost her.
Er.
This change is admirable.
Mat.
Why do you admire it.
Is she not mine? how could you think she durst
Stand out in her rebellion? although the devil
Who soothes all Upstarts dispositions
Into an over-weening of themselves.
Possest her for a time, had not I power
And vertue do you think to conjure him out?
What have I studied for, think you, e're since
My last wife di'd, but how to rule the next?
Go get you in, there's something in the house
Worth looking after.
Er.
I be sworn, he frights her.
Ra.
Would I had you within to perform covenants.
Mat.
What do you grow rebellious again.
Why stir you not else, ha? prithee Sweetheart
Respect my dignity, or only seem to do it.
Ra.
Yes, I will only seem to do it.
Val.
He makes her tremble.
Ra.
Gentlemen, I must about my house- [...]ffaires.
So, I take my leave.
Er. Val.
Good Mrs. Matchil.
Mat.
Aha.
Ra.
And Mr. Matchil, at your own good pleasure.
[Curt'sie.
Having in private something to impart to you,
I would entreat your presence.
Mat.
Well, Anon, anon.
Ra.
Your eare before I go good Mr. Matchil.
[Curt'sie, Pinch.
Val.
H'has brought her to her servile old obedi­ence.
Mat.
O—oh.
Ra.
That is a private touch, sir, of the businesse.
Mat.
Pox of your Lobster claws. There waanip▪
Ra.
[Page 54]
It will be worth consideration, sir.
Mat.
Well, Ile come to you presently.
Ra.
I humbly take my leave.
Ex.
Er.
Any ill newes that you change colour so?
Mat.
No, nothing, nothing but a womanish feare.
Val.
Well, you are a happy man that have o' recom her.
Mat.

You know not me yet Gentlemen, I know a word in private would do it.

Val.
Yet she desires to have you again in pri­vate.
Mat.
'Tis her abundant love, and pure obedience.
Er.
She comes again.
Enter Rachel.
Ra.
Since y'are not yet dispos'd to cnter, sir.
One word more, Mr. Matchil, if you please.
[curt'sie.
Mat.
Oh,—I understand you. Go, I'le follow you.
Ra.
Again, I take my leave.
Ex.
Mat.
I must weare Lantern-hornes upon mine arms,
If she use this. Well, Gentlemen, at your own time
Lets see yee. My Rach. shall make you welcome,
And for me, you know me, I will still be Master.—
Enter Rachel.
I come, I come, I come. So, farewel Gentlemen.
Ex.
Val.
Ha, do you run?
Er.
What doest thou think of this?
Val.
I'le lay all the tricks I have against his brags.
She masters him in private, and that all
This shew of her obedience is dissembled.
My hope revives again; we must abroad with her.
[Page 55] But tell me, what new Academy's that
You told her of, I understand not that yet.
Er.
Nor have I seen it, but we both will shortlie.
'Tis but of two or three dayes standing yet.
Val.
Where is it? who are the Professours,
And what the Arts?
Er.
I'le tell thee all know.
It carries a love-sound; but I am told
It is but private lodgings kept by
Both men and women, as I am inform'd, after the French manner.
That professe Musick, Dancing, Fashion, Comple­ment.—
Val.
And no drabbing?
Er.
A little perhaps in private.
But guesse now in whose house all this.
Val.
I cannot.
Er.
Even in your City-Mystresses, that lends you
Money so freely.
Val.
Who Camelion?
Er.
Yes sir, I doubt, your borrowing of the wife
Has broke the husband, put'hem off their trade,
And now they seek new wayes to live by projects.
Val.
And could you keep this from me all this while,
Till I am there, each step's a tedious mile.
Er.
But not without me, good Val. We'll finde a time.
Together, and our Mrs. Matchil with us.
Ex.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Camelion and Hannah.
Cam.
Cock, I protest Cock, I commend thy course
Thou hast taken in brave Lodgers, gallant Guests,
Guests o'th' Game Cock; and my house is counted
A house of quality and recreation, Cock,
[Page 56] In civil sort and gentle fashion, Cock,
Sbobs Cock, I know thou wouldest not have it other­wise
For all the wealth i'th' Exchange.
Han.
But Rafe you care not
What people say, so I bring you in profit.
Cam.
Not I, not I, my little Cocksie Nansie,
Not I, pish, Hony soit qui maly pense.
Han.
Some do not stick to say, I know what's what,
And that our house is no better then it should be.
Cam.
Pish, Hony soit agen, i'th' very teeth of 'hem,
Let 'hem all say what they will. Dainty come thou to me.
Han.
But I know what I know, and that our house is
Better then it should be, if some of them
Had but the keeping of it, that speak so ill on't.
And that the Gentlewomen in our house
Are well-condition'd, and as chaste as courteous.
And if you saw, (as they desire I should
See all betwixt their great Resorts and them)
You'd be in love with their sweet way of living.
Then for their dancing, 'tis so neat and graceful.
See 'hem anon at practice.
Cam.
Not I, Cock, I'le see nothing.
I will not leave one ducking pond, for ten dancing schooles.
Yet I can dance, and love it: you know that Cock.
And though you are a Gentlewoman borne,
You took me for my legs, not [...]or my armes.
Is not that a good Jest, Cock. Sbobs 'twas out before
I was aware. Here comes their father.
Enter Strigood, Cash, disguiz'd in bravery.
Cam.
It seems he has brought in some new scholar.
Stri.
[Page 57]
Where are my daughters, Landlady.
Han.
Close in their chamber, sir.
Stri.
Are none of our Academicks come yet?
Han.
Not any, sir.
Stri.
I look for some anon
Pray bid the Girles come down
To practise.
Han.
Yes, sir.
Ex.
Cam.
Sir, when I was a Batchelour, I practis'd,
Dauncing sometimes.
Stri.
Indeed, good Landlord?
Cam.
And maugre wedloek, I have something left
Yet in these legs, that can expresse at least
Love to the quality.
Stri.
That shall not be lost,
If I can further it.
Cam.
I saw last night
Your new French daunce of three, what call you it?
Stri.
O the Tresboun.
Cam.
I think I could make one in't.
Stri.
This Gentleman's another, call the Musick.
I'le try what you can do.
Ex. Cam.
Cash, Thou art welcom, I am glad I met thee.
Cash.
But that you had foreknowledge of my habit,
And seen it in my out-leaps, as you call 'hem,
I might ha' past. But you in this disguise,
None but the devil himself that is your Inmate,
And lodges with you in it, could have known you.
Sure he devis'd it.
Stri.
No, you are short.
I learn't it of a Jesuite.
And 'twas but easie: shaving of my old
Gray haire and beard off; clapping on this perrule
After the fashion; having but few wrinkles.
(For which I thank my Batchelourship, I passe
For a brisk youth. But for my Hannibal eye here. And by my brothers
[Page 58] Courteous advice I have ta'ne a course to live
Vpon my stock of wit, slight and activity,
With nimble braine, quick hands, and aery heels, as he told me, ha!
Cash.
He could not think you would have stolne his daughter to ha' set up withal.
Stri.
But now I care not
What the wretch thinks, so he discovers nothing,
I dare trust thee Cash, partly on thy Oath
Which I have ta'ne you know: but more respectively
Upon your fourty pieces here, friend Cash,
Which I have also ta'ne: but most of all
For that I know you dare not make discovery,
For feare of Little-ease. That were a prison
Too fearful for such bravery to stoop into.
Cash.
That keeps me still in awe. 'Tis well you know it.
But it is better, he has no suspition
That I am run away.
Enter Camelion.
Cam.
The Musick's ready, sir.
Stri.
Play then,—the Tresboun.
Daunce.
Stri.
'Twas very well done, Landlord, I protest
I love your house the better for your quality.
Cam.
But if you saw me at the ducking pond,
Me and my Trull.
Stri.
Your Trull?
Cam.
I mean, my bitch, sir.
O she would ravish you.
Enter Hannah.
[Page 59]
Stri.
Some other time.
Here comes your wife. The newes good Landlady?
Han.
Newes out of France, your fame is spread a­broad.
Stri.
How out of France?
Han.
Two young French Gentlemen.
New come ashore, the daintiest sweetest Gentlemen
That e're I saw (now you'll be jealous Rafe)
Cam.
Not I.
Han.
Are come to lodge here, having heard
It seems, that you professe French qualities.
And instantly desire to be acquainted
With you and your sweet company.
Stri.
Can they speak English?
Han.
One very well: and the tother can say
Tree Fransh crown for two English kisse already,
Now be jealous Rafe.
Cam.
Pish, Hony soit qui maly pense.
Stri.
You can speak French, Landlord.
Cam.
So much as you have heard, not one word more.
I assure you but this, Adieu Monsieur and so
I leave you.
Han.
Will you not see the Gallants Rafe?
Cam.
Not I, I wo'nt be jealous Cock, and so▪
By the Back-door to the ducking pond. I go.
Ex.
Stri.
Enter then Landlady, where be these Girles?
Han.
Here they are come.
Ex.
Enter Joyce, Gabriella.
Stri.
Stand aside Cash, and be not yet discovered.
Now Ladies, how do y'like your way of living?
Joy.
[Page 60]
I do not like it Uncle.
Gab.
Troth, nor I sir.
Joy.
We eat and lodge well; and we weare good cloathes.
And keep our credit in the house we live in,
But what we suffer in our reputation
Abroad, is dangerously doubtful.
Stri.
So, so.
Gab.
Here we are view'd and review'd by all com­ers.
Courted and tempted too, and though w'are safe
In our chaste thoughts, the impious world may say,
We are set out to common sale.
Stri.
So, so.
Cash.
And so you are to th' utmost of his power
I dare be sworue;
Joy.
But Uncle, for the time that you intend
To stay, I pray admit no new acquaintance,
Nor any more, lest I for my escape
Venture a leap two stories deep.
Stri.
Ha! you said?
You know I have disclos'd you to no eye
That could take knowledge who or whence you are,
And for the forrein strangers, and such Townsfolks
As knew us not; what need we weigh their thoughts.
Their gold is weight; let that be all we look to.
While our deserving arts and qualities
Require it from 'hem. If they think us wicked,
And hope to get Virginities for salary,
And pay for their deluded hopes before-hand.
What is our act bnt Justice on their follies,
In taking of their prodigal coine?
Gab.
I hope,
You deal not that way for us.
Stri.
Never fear it.
Joy.
But Uncle, though you have taught us courtly
Gypsie tricks.
[Page 61] That somewhat trench upon our modesties.
Pray let it not be thought we'll sell our honesties.
Stri.
Trust to my care.
Cash.
And thats the way to do it.
Stri.
And in that care be confidently seen,
By a deserving Gentleman, whom I
Present to kisse your hands.
Joy.
I will see none.
Cash.
You need not feare me, Lady; for I can
But tell your father, if you slight his servant.
Gab.
Blesse us! what Metamorphosis is this?
'Tis Cash your fathers man.
Joy.
Is this the habit of a Merchants Prentice?
Cash.
Is this the lodging of a Merchants daugh­ter?
Joy.
Has his great marriage turn'd my fathers house
Into a sumptuous Palace, that he keeps
Such costly men. Or doth the bravery
Of his late beauteous Bride require such gorgeous
Attendants? Pray what office may you fill
About her person.
Cash.
Will you home and see?
Gab.
We are betray'd?
Stri.
Ha, ha, ha. Be not afraid of Cash.
I know him, and he knows us. He is our friend
And we'll be his. As for his bravery
'Tis no new thing with him. I know him of old.
This sute's his worst of foure.
And he's one
Of the foure famous Prentices o'th' time.
None of the Cream and Cake-boyes, nor of those,
That gall their hands with stool-balls, or their Cat­sticks,
For white-pots, pudding-pies, stew'd prunes, and Tansies.
To feast their Titts at Islington or Hogsden.
[Page 62] But haunts the famous Ordinaries o'th' time,
Where the best chear, best game, best company are fre­quent.
Lords call him Cousin at the Bowling Green; And the great Tennis-Court.
Thy fathers money
Would rust else, Girle. Keep thou our Councel Cash.
And we'll keep thine, though't be to the undoing
Of him and all the wretches of his brotherhood,
That love their money, and their base desires,
Better then blood or name.
Gab.
But can you hold
It good in any servant so to hazard
His Masters livelihood.
Stri.
Can you hold your peace?
He's wise, and saves by't all this while: He knows
His friends are bound in full two thousand pounds,
For's truth, and his true service, and perhaps,
He is not out above one thousand yet,
Where's your wit now?
Cash.
Mystresse, I'le do you service, and be true to you.
I'd not have mist of this discovery.—
Stri.
You see she hearkens to him. Talk aside Cash.
And touch her boldly.
Cash.
I would not have mist it.
For all the wealth your father has: and at
Convenient privacy. Ple give you reasons,
That shall gaine your belief to't.
Stri.
The French Gallants.
Enter Papillion, Galliard.
I had almost forgot them. They are a paire
Of delicate young Monsieurs. If they have
But crownes enough, they are the likelicst
[Page 63] Merchants for my new Mart that I can choose.
She said they can speak English, that's a help.
For devil of French have I to entertain 'hem.
[Salutes.
Gab.
See mine own heart, here's more temptation still.
Joy.
I'le not endure the onset.
Cash.
I le defend you.
Joy.
Yet there are graces in their looks methinks,
That do invite my stay.
Pap.
N' entendes vous, la langue francois Mon­sieur dittez.
Stri.
I would be glad to heare you speak the lan­guage
I better understand, and that is English.
In which you are most welcome.
Pap.
Your faire courtesie
Merits our greatest thanks.
Gali.
I tanck you, sir.
I have bid Fraunce adieu to come and learn
De English very well; I speak a lietel,
But de English Mesteresse can teach de best.
I shall be glad to take my commencements,
Or my first Lessons from these Ladies lips.
[Salute.
Stri.
A fine forward spark?
Gali
O sweet, O delicate.
Ladies, if you will breath into me English,
I shall, if you please, put Fransh into you.
Ʋne pour l'antre, dat is one for anoder.
Cash.
So they might make a hot bargain on't.
Joy.
Are these your Civil Gentlemen, Landlady?
Han.
He seems a little waggish: but the other
Is wondrous civil. He comes blushingly.
Pap.
You are before me in the Salutation
Of these faire Ladies, Monsieur Galiard:
Gal.
Il E'vray Monsieur Papilion, I kisse before, then you mose kisse behind.
[Page 64] But let me pray my tardinesse be excus'd
[Salute.
Joy.
You pronounce English well sir.
Pap.
I am glad
You like it Lady.
Gab.
I like the others as well.
Pap.
I have before spent many monethes in Eng­land:
And my great love unto the Nation,
Especially to the beauties of your Sexe,
Retracts me hither, where my friend was never.
Till now that my perfwasion wonne his company;
And happily, I suppose, we are arriv'd:
That, to the sight and knowledge we have had
Of Musick, Daunces, Courtships, and Behaviour.
Through all parts of our Countrey, France, with an
Addition of all Italy affords.
Where (by all best opinions) even the choicest
Of such court qualities, and active graces,
Have had their Spring, we now, as Fame suggests,
Shall in this faire Society, discerne
More then by all our former observation.
Stri.
Report, sir, speaks too loud on our behalfe,
And let me pray ye, that it not beget
Too great an expectation on our weaknesse,
By your too gentle suffrage. What we can,
We'll do.
Gali.
O wee dats de best. Doe is de ting
De Fransh man loves: If all your both two daugh­ters
Shew all; all makes but more desire to do.
Speak I no good English, Madamoiselle?
Joy.
I understand you not.
Gali.
You no understand me,
Because you tinck I lie. But if you lie
With me, I make you understand me presently.
Cash.
This hot-rein'd Mousieur takes 'em for the same.
[Page 65] Strigood would have 'em be I came in time.
Stri.
At afternoon we'll have an exercise
Of courtship, Gentlemen. In the Interim,
If you will have to stir the appetite,
A dance before our Ordinary we are for you.
Gali.
And we for you Alloun al Egremant Alloun
Monsieur Papillion pour l' honour de France.
Pap.
VVhat are your dances chiefly in request.
Stri.
Good Landlady, bid the Musick be in r [...]adinesse.
And then see dinner set upon the table.
Ex. Han.
We have Sir for Corants, —La Miniard,
La Vemimde, Le Marquesse, Le Holland,
La Brittaine, Le Roy, Le Prince, Le Montague,
The Saraband; the Canaries, La Reverree.
For Galliards, the Sellibrand, the Dolphine,
The new Galliard, the Valette Galliard and lepees,
Gali.
'Tis all very good Monsieur Papillica Essontes
Mon Amy.
Cash.
And heark you, Monsieur Strigood, you will be put to't.
Stri.
I feare no French flashes. Beare up Cash. If we cannot daunce 'hem of o' their legs, our wenches can,
I warrant thee. Musick be ready.
Gallants, what are you pleased to daunce?
Phil.
tells what, &c.
After the Daunces, Enter Hannah.
Han.
Gentlemen, your dinner stays meat will be cold.
Fran.
And we are hot, 'tis better that take cold then we.
But come, one table for us all.
Phil.
Stri. Agreed, agreed, agreed.
Cash.
I say so too.
But to my self reserve what I will do.
Ex. omnes.

Act. IV.

Scoen. 1.

Nehemiah, Ephraim.
Neh.

EPhraim, thou hast made me a man, both without, witnesse this sword and within, witnesse this precious book, which I have gotten al­most by heart already.

Eph.

But sir, beware you fall not back again Into your childish follies: but go forwards In manly actions: for non progredi est regredi.

Neh.

I know the meaning of that too, Ephraim. That's once a man and twice a childe. But if I turne childe again, while I have teeth in my head, [...]'le give Mrs. Blithe leave to dig 'hem out with Sugar­plums, as she almost did these two of 'hem yesterday, with her knuckles. I would they stuck both in her bum for't, till I we [...]e married to her, and that shall be shortly, they say, I wo' not turne boy again for that trick.

Eph.

I hope you will not.

Neh.

Thou mayest be sure on't Ephraim: for if I would turne boy again, I ha' not wherewithal to set up again. Thou sawest that, assoon as I had tasted the sweetnesse of this delic [...]ous book here, I tore and burnt all my ballats, as well the godly as the ungodly. In my conscience as many as might have furnish't three Bartholomew Faires, and then for love of this sword, I broke and did away all my storehouse of tops, gigs, b [...]l [...]s, cat and catsticks, pot-guns, key-guns, trunks, tillers, and all; and will I turne boy again canst think? ye [...] I am half sorry, being towards a wife, that I did [Page 67] not keep 'hem for my children: some money might have been sav'd by't. And that is a manly and a good husbandly consideration, I take it. But hang covetous­nesse: There comes not a mouth into the world, but there's meat for t; and if I finde 'em not play games, their mother will finde friends, that shall, for them and her selfe too

Eph.

I'm glad to heare such good things to come from you,

And hope that now your judgment's strong e­nough

To manage my affair. You know my minde, sir.

Neh.

Amardla Ephraim, 'twill be hard to compasse. For the old Knight will never let me have his Neece, unlesse he have my mother. He meanes to truck for her, though, I confesse, I had rather call thee father then any man, I know, yet I know not how to bring it about, unlesse he marry her first; and then she be weary of him, and take thee afterwards to mend her match. I think it must be so, Amardla Ephraim.

Eph.

Now you flie out again, that's as impos­sible, as 'tis unlawful.

La.

Within. Negh. Negh.

Neh.

Peace, my mother comes.

La.

Where are you childe? Neh.

Neh.

I hear her neighing after me, I'le do all I can for thee, Amardla Ephraim.

Enter Lady.
La.

Look you [...]onne, what kinde Sir Swithin has sent you. A dancing frog, you would think it were a­live, and a ballet of burning the false prophets before they be tried. And another fearful one of the new Antichrist.

Neh.

Hang bawbles, burn ballets, I am a man, and defie boyes tricks.

La.
[Page 68]

A sudden change, I pray it be good.

Neh.

Tell me of toyes? I have a sword: offer me ballets? I have a book. Speak to me of Sir Swithin, I'le talk to you of Ephraim that gave me these bles­sings; and is fitter to be my father, (so he is) then the foolishest Knight of 'em all.

[Reades,
La.

Blesse my sonne from too much learning. That book has done him no good, I doubt. He talks and looks so wildly o'the sudden.

Neh.

A ha!

La.

What book is't. Let me see it.

Neh.

I'le tell you first. It is a book all of Bulls, Jests and Lies Collected by an A. S. Gent. Mother f'sooth, there be such things in it! If you never reade it, it is the rarest book that ever you read in your life. Open it where you will, and you shall learn something. As here now. One refusing to eat Cheese­cakes, was ask't his reason. He told them he lov'd the flesh well, but was afeard of the bones. Then here's the next to't. One asking whence Lobsters were brought: his fellow repli'd, one might easily know their countrey by their coat. They are fetch't from the red sea. Now would I might never eat more of 'hem, as well as I love 'hem, if I know what Cheese-cakes were made of, or from whence Lobsters came be­fore.

La.

Is this your book-learning? In troth thou mak'st me laugh.

Neh.

Laugh on, good Mother. And while you are in the merry mood, let me speak a good word for E­phraim. I have a minde f'sooth, because he has made me a man, to make him my father, f'sooth.

La.

What, what! How now.

How durst you firrah, move my sonne in this? ha.

Eph.

Madam.

La.

Is it but so? ha!

Neh.
[Page 69]

Pray f'sooth hear him speak. He can speak Po­etry (he sayes) as well as Knight Whimlbie. Speak Ephraim.

Eph.
Madam, Fa [...]re truth h [...]ve told
That Queens of old
Have now and then
Married with private men.
A Countesse was no Blusher,
To wed her Ʋsher.
Without remorse
A Lady took her Horse-
Keeper in wedlock. These did wisely know,
Inferiour men best could their work below.
Neh.

Mother f'sooth, Is it not fine?

Eph.

Nay, Madam, more then so, I'le further go

La.

But you shall not, Sirrah. What, what! how now! Is't but up and ride? ha! Out of my doors thou varlet.

Neh.

I must out too then, mother I am afraid, oh.—

La.

Good Neh. be pacified, I'le give him a better answer.

But not a word on't now, sweet childe, I pray thee.
Here comes Sir Swithin.
Enter Whimlbie, Blithe.
Whi.

Ha, ha, ha, Madam, ha, ha, ha.

[Kisse.
La.

I marry Sir Swithin. This is better then O Ma­dam, O—, when you wash't your handkerchiefs in the suds, and then to wring hem out in Poetry.

Whi.

My tears with the memory of the dead are all fallen into Lethe; and nothing but joy left in me, sinc my hopes are confirm'd in your lap. And hang [Page 70] Poetry: I study profit now. Therefore, look you, Madam, here is a draught of my marriage-instrument to your lap.

Eph.

His instrument being drawn, I must put up my pipe and be gone.

Ex.
VVhi.

And here is another draught for sweet Master Nehemiah, for my Neece Blithes Joincture.

Neh.

O but she sayes she will not have me.

VVhi.

When did she say so?

Neh.

Now, now, she spat the word out of her mouth. And I say, if she ha' not me, you shall whine both your eyes out before you have my mother; and see ne're the worse, I warrant you.

Neh.

A crosse marriage, or no marriage, I say still.

La.

I say so too, sonne, Sweet boy, be content.

Whi. Blithe.

You spoke well of him behinde his back: and made me think you lov'd him, and would marry him.

Bli.

Behinde his back, I may do much to please you. But when I look upon him, he turnes my stomack worse then a fool made of soure wilk.

La.

Marry Gip, Mrs Queasie, my sonne's as sweet as you, I hope, and as wise as you. And suck't as sweet milk as ever the good Cow your mother gave.

Bli.

Ha, ha, ha.

Whi.

Patience, good Madam.

Eph.

I hope the crosse marriage is crost. This is untoward wooing.

La.

Uds so! do you flirt out your unsavoury com­parisons upon my sonne?

Bli.

Flirt not you at me, Madam, lest I flirt your milk-sop under the snotty nose here.

Neh.

Yes, and I have a sword, and you ha' got ne're a one.

La.

You wo' not will you, ha! Do you flie at him, ha!

Whi.
[Page 71]

Fear not, good Madam.

La.

Ephraim, save my boy.

Bli.

Ha, ha, ha.—

Whi

She shall not hurt him. Leave her to me, good Madam.

La.

I ever fear'd he was not long-liv'd he was so witty. And now I feare, she will be the death of him. I would not he should marry her for a million.

Neh

Say not so, mother. I love her better and better still.

I never had play-fellow i my life, but we fell out and in agen.

And I must and will marry her, I take my death on't a­forehand.

La.

O me! he is bewitch't to her.

Whi.

Leave all to me, dear Madam.

La.

As I am to you, I think, Sir Swithin.

Whi.

Let me alone with her: I'le win her, and he shall wear her▪ feare not. As [...] was saying, Madam, she speaks as well of him behinde his back, as your owne heart can wish. And told me she was content to mar­ry him.

La.

Behinde his back? did she so?

Whi.

Yes truly, Madam.

Neh.

Loe you there, mother, Let her marry me behind my back then: And when we are marri'd, I'le make her stick to't before my face, I warrant you; or if she will make back-play. I'le play at nothing but back­gammons with her.

La.

Well, Heaven blesse thee, thou art but too good for her.

Whi.

Speak gently, Neece, I charge you.

Bli

Madam, I hope your Ladiship shall finde me too good for him. If e're he has me.

La.

Ha! say you so?

Whi.

She meanes in well-doing, Madam.

La.
[Page 72]

Nay then, I thank you Mrs. Blithe. Assuring you that you shall be no way so good to him, but I will be as good to you.

Neh.

Agreed again of all hands. But look how she turnes and keeps cut like my Sparrow. She will be my back Sweet-heart still I see, and love me behind.

Whi.

She is yet raw, and has not much been abroad to see the manners of the time. In which my melan­choly has been her main hinderance. But Madam, there is now that is worth all our sight and observation; A new Academy, where they say, the newest and most courtly carriage and behaviour is taught and pra­ctised both for young Gentlemen and women. Have you not heard on t?

La.

Yes Sir Swithin; and that the French tongue is taught there with great alacrity; and my sonne is wish't thither, but soft I warrant you.

Whi.

But let him see it: at least in our company it will embolden him; I mean to carry my Neece thither. I have been a Lover of Arts and Exercises; and know somewhat since my youth. Pray let us spend one houre of this afternoon there.

La.

Pardon me good sir Swithin.

Neh.

But he shall not mother if you love me: for I mean to perfect my dancing there; and to learn French there; For I mean when I am married to travel into France. But I will first be perfect in the tongue I shall learne it the sooner when I am there you know. Pray let us go to th' Acomedy, what dee call it?

Whi.

The Academy.

La.

Say you so sonne? then come sir Swithin. Come Mrs. Blithe, we will all go.

Bli.

I'le wait upon you, though my heart sayes no.

Ex.

Scoen. 2.

Enter Joyce, Gabriella.
Joy.
O mine own heart! how near were we both fallen
Into the Gulf of Ruine?
Gab.
Thanks for our delivery!
We were upon the brink of main destruction.
Joy.
Was ever such a Fr [...]end as this mine Vncle?
Pretending us his children too, and call'd us daugh­ters
To those he bargain'd with to se [...]l our Maide head?
Gab.
'Twas a most damnable practise sie upon him.
Joy.
And had the Monsieurs been as capable
Of our Virginities, as he was of.
Their moneys, how had we then resisted.
Gab.
By Venus (mine own heart) my Gentleman
Came up so close to me, that if my voice
Had not been stronger then mine armes (O me!
I tremble fon it yet) I had been vanquish't,
Joy.
But did you note the vertue of the Gentle­men?
When they were sensible of our feares and tears,
How gently they desisted and with what humanity,
When they perceiv'd how we had heen betrayd,
They pitied our conditions; and woo'd homditly
Our loves in way of marriage. Provided that
Our births and fortunes might no way disparage
Theirs, being free and generous
Gab.
I confesse
I love 'hem both so well, that if they prove
(As they pretend they are not) our inferiours
In blood and worth, I would take either of'em.
Joy.
Troth (mine own heart) 'tis just the same with me.
[Page 74] I care not which I have. And mark a sympathy,
How equally all our [...]ffections strike.
We both love them, they both love us alike.
But peace. Cash, though he has done us good service,
Must not know all. How goes it within Cash?
Enter Cash.
Cash.
And why Cash pray. Ha' not you chang'd your names
From Joyce and Gabriella to Jane and Frances.
And is not your Uncle Strigood now become
Your father, by the name of Mr. Lightfoot
The nimble dancing Master? And must I still
Carry the name of Cash? and having lost
My nature too, in having no cash left?
(Pox o'the dice) call me Mr. Outlash.
Joy.
My father will fetch you home with an Inlash,
One o'these dayes.
Cash.
But after you, faire Mistris,
Now to your question for the squares within.
Joy.
I with the Frenchmen, and my Uncle Stri­good.
Cash.
Your father Lightfoot, you forget agen.
There's a drawn match made: For the Monsieurs
Have ta'ne their money again: And you have still
Your Maidenheads, I hope. But to have heard
The coi [...]e they kept, the wrangle, and the stir;
And how the young Blades put the old one to't;
Would ha perplext you more then keeping of
Your Maidenheads from men you love.
Gab.
You cannot tell that.
Cash.
O how the old man chafes that you would offer
To make your mone to [...]hem to move their pity,
And not to make his bargain good; and then
[Page 75] How they put home his basenesse to him; to make sale
Of his own blood and honour in his children.
(They knew they said some parents in their coun­trey,
After their children were turn'd whores, would share
To live upon the profits, but to sell
Their soules before they were damned, fie; fie, fie, fie).
Till he confest indeed you were none of his.
But children of some friends of his deceast,
Left to his care sor breeding; which he had
Plenteously given, and thought it might seem reason­able
To raise his money out of you agen.
Joy.
What an old devil is this?
Cash.
Baser and baser still.
The Monsieurs cri'd, and swore if they could sinde
Your Parents were Gentle and vertuous,
Being their first Loves, they would marry you,
To free you from this miserable thraldome.
Gab.
Brave honest Gentlemen.
Gab.
Be advis'd though, Mistresse.
Joy.
I hope I shall.
Cash.
Beware of Travellers, many passe abroad
For gallant fellowes that have run their countrey,
For picking pockets.
Joy.
And some you know at home
For cozening their Masters.
Cash.
You are pleas'd.
But you have known my love; for Gabriella
Let'hem share her betwixt 'hem. You and I
Made one, may soon make peace with the old man
At home.
Joy.
O Rogue! I'le tell you more anon Cash.
[Page 76] Enter Strigood, Pap. Galliard.
Stri.
Come Gentlemen, Monsieur Papillion.
And Monsieur Galliard, all friends, all friends.
Pap.
A greed, agreed, sir.
Gall.
And agree for me.
Agree poor tout.
Stri.
Chear up your faces Girles.
'Twas but my trial of your chastity.
And since you have stood firme, I am proud of you.
Trust me, 'twas but to try you.
Gall.
Wee wee All, but for try. Trimount, tri­mount.
No more, but all for try: no man can tinck,
But'twas too very moshe to take two hundred
Crowns for two pusillages, no, no was but
For try: but and she had not squeek and scrash too
Like to do leetel chat, I had Trimount
One, two, tree, five time, for all your try.
Stri.
VVhat's past let be forgot. According to
Agreement, Gentlemen, y'are now content
To joyne with us in Academick fellowship,
And for your pastime professe Art and Science,
As we do for our profit: y'are expert,
I finde; and shall winne wonder of our Nation,
To your own much delight out of their follies.
Cash.
And then for Gamesters, Gentlemen. If you [...]ll play.
I'le bring ye those shall venture money enough.
Pap.
VVe are planted to our wish.
Gall.
All very good.
All very good; but I would see thee first.
VVhat Ladies will come here to practise complement.
Stri.
You are still hot upon the female Monsieur Galliard
Monsieur Papillion here flies over [...]hem.
[Page 77] Enter Hannah.
Han.
Ha, ha, ha, what will this world come to?
Stri.
Landlady, the newes?
Han.
The old will to't.
As well as the young I see.
Stri.
To what Landlady?
He takes her aside. And that while the young men and maids court and confer at tother side.
Han.
To fashion following;
A Reverend Lady
Of fifty five; and a Knight of threescore
And upwards, are come hither to learn fashion.
Stri.
Do you know their names?
Han.
Yes, yes: and them; 'tis that
Begets my wonder.
'Tis the Lady Nestlecock, and one Sir Swithin VVhimlby.
Stri.
VVit be merciful unto us.
Enter Hannah, Cash.
Han.

The Ladies man's without: who came to know if the house were ready to entertain 'hem; do you know 'em Mr. Lightfoot?

Stri.
I have heard o'th' Lady. Cash, see if it be E­phraim.
He cannot know thee. Let him not away,
[He looks out.
By any meanes, his not return to them may keep 'hem back.
Cash.
'Tis he, I see him hither.
Stri.
Landlady, is your husband come from duck­ing.
Han.
Yes, overjoy'd with the good sport he has had.
He'll play th' good fellow then. Entreat him Cash.
[Page 78] To help thee, put a cup or two upon
That fellow; and hear [...]st me, spice his cup,
I mean, grave Ephraims cup with this same powder,
'Twill lay him asleep, and quickly.
Cash.
I know the trick on't.
Ex.
Stri.
And Landlady, when the Knight and Lady come,
Say we are ready for 'em.
Han.
That I shall sir.
Pap.
'Tis then an absolute contract. I am yours.
Joy.
And I am yours as firme as faith can binde.
Gall.
To which we are de witnesse. Be so for us,
I am her husband, And she is my wife,
Speak you.
Gab.
'Fore Heaven, I do acknowledge it,
But sir, the Church must be observ'd,
Gall.
For that.
We'll send for one Minister that shall marry
Us all at once. One kisse till then shall serve.
[Kisse.
Stri.
'Tis well done Monsieurs, I no sooner turn
My back, but you are on the Damosels lips.
Gall.
A leetel in de honest way will serve,
But he shall know no-ting.
Stri.
On with your Masques-Maids,
And take especial heed you blush not through 'hem.
For here are some at hand will put us to't.
Joy.
'Tis not my father, nor my Lady Aunt?
Stri.
I cannot promise you. Be bold and safe.
Beare it out bravely, or our school breaks up
Immediately: and we are broke forever,
Besides, there is no startiug.
Gab.
That's enough
To make a coward fight, and mine own heart;
We must stand stoutly to't, we lose our loves else.
Joy.
Well, I am arm'd.
Gab.
And I.
Stri.
[Page 79]
Fall into complement.
Masques on.
Enter Whimlby, Lady, Neh. Blithe.
La.
I muse we lost my man thus.
Neh.
By your leave, sir.
Are you the Regent of this Academy?
Stri.
I am sir.
Whim.
And are those of your Assistants.
Stri.
Yes sir, and all Professors of Court-discipline,
By the most accurate, yet more familiar
Rules, then have ever yet been taught by any,
For quick instruction both of young and old.
Whim.
You promise very fairly. For us old ones,
We know and could have done things in our youth,
Which still we have a minde to: but we leave
The practice to our young ones: Here's a paire
Would faine be at it. We'll pay their admittance.
La.
But I'd be glad to see first by your leave,
Some probability of what they shall learn.
Stri.
And reason good, good Madam. Pray observe there.
Pap.

Fair star of courtship, my unworthy humble self, a Profest servant to the integrity of beauty, makes this

Clear testimony of your merits, that every eye that sees you,

Owes you his heart for tribute, and that unjustly your beholders live, that live not in your service.

Neh.
Mother f'sooth, is not this French?
La.
Peace ch [...]lde. Hear more on't.
Joy.

Noble sir, you are so exactly deserving in the opinion of all righteous judgements, that the least syl­lable of your faire testimony, is able to re-edifie the ru­ines of a decayed commendation.

Whim.
The best that ever I heard, since I woo'd my Grissel.
Stri,
[Page 80]

Was not that a sweet bout, sir?

Whim.

Yes, yes, it puts me in minde of some sweet bouts I had with one before I married her.

Stri.

[...]as he married my Sister troe?

Pap.

I am forc't to give you over, Madam, you have such a preventing and preoccupying wit in all things.

Neh.

That goes like English Mrs. Blithe. I could learn some of that me thinks.

Bli.

Best tell your mother so; she may rejoyce at it.

Stri.

There, Lady, was a taste of sweet comple­ment between persons equally affected. May it please you now to let your sonne passe upon this demosel. Who being to her a stranger, and raw (as I imagine) in courtship, shall meet with reprehension, that may be for his instruction.

La.

Do Neh. speak to her.

Whim.

Put of your hat and say—.

Neh.

What! and her masque on?

La.

That was well-said. Why are they mask'd, I pray sir?

Stri.

We are commanded it by the policy of wise authority; for feare young heires might fall in love with 'em, and sink their fortunes.

La.

You have well satisfied me.

Neh.

What should I say to one I never saw.

Whim.

When I was young and bold, I would have said, Lady, you are most auspiciously encountred. And speak it boldly.

Neh.

Lady, you are most suspiciously accoutred, I speak it boldly.

Whim.

Auspiciously encountred man.

Neh.

Auspicously encountred woman, I say.

Gab.

I commiserate your encounter. 'Tis a most hungry, verminous, impoverish't word sir. It seems you are a stranger by't, to the Innovation of courtship.

Neh.
[Page 81]

What should I say to that now?

La.

He's a weak scholar forsooth, and would be glad to learn.

Gab.

The acknowledgement of his weaknesse is the first greece of gradation to perfection, and his glad­nesse the scaling-ladder of resolution.

Neh.

Pray f'sooth, can you teach me a complement to offer you sugar-plums, and eat 'hem my selfe: to save my manners and my plums too?

La.

What a wag it is?

Gab.

What walking dunghil is this? made of the dust swept from the house of ignorance.

La.

What, what! how now, ha? you are a Flapse to terme my sonne so, ha!

Stri.

O good Madam. This is but school play.

La.

I'le put her by her school-tricks and no only [...]nmask, but unskin her face too, and she come over my heire apparent with such Billingsgate Comple­ments.

Pap.

Sweet Madam, no harm was meant, and no­thing said in earnest: 'Twas meerly but school pra­ctice, but to shew the sweet young Gentleman how he might be subject to the scorne of Court, before he be seen in Complement.

La.

Say you so?

Pap.

'Twas told your Ladiship before, that by repre­hension he might finde instructiou.

Whim.

Right Madam; For no Fencer learnes his Science before he receive some hits and knocks too: Oh, I have had many.

La.

Nay, I am satisfied, and pray, that my rash er­rour may prove pardonable Lady

Gab.

Rather let me implore your mercy, Ma­dam—.

Stri.

'Tis well, 'tis well Lets hear an Interchange or two now, of complemental acknowledgement of [Page 82] courtesies past betwixt Ladies, for the edification of [...]his faire one, who seems not yet to have ta'ne notice of us, but looks o' the ground still.

Bli.

'Tis not to finde a fescue, sir, among the Rushes.

To pick out a lesson in your crisse-crosse-row of comple­ment.

Stri.

Sharp and sudden. She has a good wit I see.

Whim.

Ob erve, good Blithe, observe.

Gab.

Can your poor servant expresse acknowledge­ment enough, Lady, for favonrs so incessantly heap't upon her, besides the accumulation of many secret be­nefits?

Joy.

I cannot but admire, Madam, your noble and illustrious Gratitude, that can give beauty to benefits of so low a birth and condition.

Whim.

O my Grissel comes to my minde agen, she was the gratefullest woman.

Gab.

If such favours, Madam, should passe under an humble name, Honour would grow idle, and a thankful Nature beguil'd of her emploiment.

Joy.

You' [...]l make my zeale hereafter, too bashful to serve your most curious acknowledgement.

Bli.

Curious acknowledgement! There was a thrid drawn out.

Gab.

I am hound by many kindnesses, Madam, to ce­lebrate the faire memory of you; as the trouble of your Coach twice in one day, besides those inestimable Jewels, the Monkey and Dormouse your Ladiship sent me.

Neh.

I would you could lend me a sight of 'hem for­sooth, I love such things devoutly.

Joy.

You do but open a privie door to my thankful temembrance, Madam, for the bounty of your Squirrel and Paraquitoe.

Bli.

Fagh, shut that privie-door.

Neh.
[Page 83]

And shut in the Squirrel and the Paraquitoe to be stifled, shall she? O that I could see hem!

Stri.

Now Madam, and Sir Knight, Is not this neat and handsom?

Whim.

Truly, truly, 'tis most admirable pretty.

Stri.
Nay, if you heard our Lectures, saw our
Daunces.
Relish't our Musick and harmonious voices,
Observ'd our Rules for fashion and attire,
Our many exact postures and dimensions,
Fit to be us'd by way of Salutation,
Of courtesie, of honour, of obeisance,
To all degrees of man or womankind,
From the low bent of vassalage, to the head
Of towring Majesty, you should admire.
La.

But do you reade and teach all these to your scholars?

Stri.

Stand forth, Monfieur Galliard. Stay w'are interrupted.

Enter Eras. Val. Rachel.
Up maids, and quickly; or 'tis not your Masques
Can keep you undiscover'd. Go, be ready,
With Musick and your voices, when I call to yee.
Ex. Joy. Gab.
La.

Why are we interrupted? pray proceed.

Neh.

Mother, it is my naughty Aunt, so 'tis▪

La.

No matter, sonne, we'll take no notice of her.

I wonder at the boldnesse of the drudge though.
Ra.

I can turne taile too, as well as the great La­dy. Hab.

Val.

And do so, Mystresse, give her a broad­side.

Well-said, we'll make our partie good, I warrant you.
Er.
[Page 84]
Sir, we have heard your Fame; and love your Arts.
[...] pray that our ambition be excus'd,
Which drew on our Intrusion.
Stri.

To me and to the place you are all welcom.

Val.
And so to all I hope, chiefly to you,
Good Madam Dowager, hoping in good time
I may get good, by doing much good upon you
How likes your L [...]p [...]my complement.
La.

Do you bring your rude companions to affront me? Are you so hot? you stir up your cinders before they be cak't.

Val.

Still in the Kitchin-dialect.

Ra.

No ruder then your self, hah.

Val.

I brought her, Madam,

[...] advance my suit to you.
La.

Will you see me abus'd

[...]ir [...], look to your Neece, the t'other talks to her.

Whi.

Kinde merry Gentlemen, Madam, when I was young I would have done the like. Their com­ing hither, was as ours was to note th' instructi­ons

That are taught here. Pray sir proceed. On with your exercise, that we may all be edified.

Stri.

We shall do so, sir.

Val.

But sir, your Gentlewomen,

That past upon our entrance where are they?
[...]

Sir, they were call'd in haste to private pra­ctice

With some great Ladies in an upper room.
Val.

Umh—private practice. Well, I shall know all.

Stri.

And they being absent, we shall for the pre­sent

Only deliver by these Gentlemen,
[...]me heads of Sciences.
[Page 85] A Song, a Daunce, and then
Entreat you take a taste of a collation.
And all most fairly welcome.
Speak M [...]nsieur Galli­ard,
The heads of our chief Arts. Your silence, pray you.
Gal.
The first is the due carriage of the body,
The proper motion of the head, hand, leg,
To every several degree of person,
From the Peasant unto the Potentate;
To your [...]nferiours how and when to use the Nod,
The Hum, the Ha, the Frown, the Smile,
Upon the fit occassion; and to your equals,
The exactest, newest, and familiar motions
Of eye, of hand, of knee, of arme and shoulder,
That are in Garbe, in Congee, Crindge, or Shrug,
In common Courtesie, or Complement,
Lastly, for your Addresses to Superiours.
The Honours, Reverence, or Obeysances,
Proper unto the quality or estate
Of person whatsoever. And so much
For carriage and behaviour. In the next place
You shall have rules for the more graceful wearing
Of your Apparel, with the natural Reasons,
Why some mans hat does better in his hand
Then on his head, and why his coat hangs neater
Upon his elbow, then upon his back,
As also Reasons for Tunes bringing up.
And marriages, together of the fashions
Of man and woman, how his Caller, and her
Black-bag, came on together; how his pocket-comb
To spru [...]e his Perrule, and her Girdle-glasse,
To order her black pashes, came together;
How his walking in the streets without a cloak
And her, without a man came up together,
Of these, and of a hundred more the like.
We shall demonstrate reasons and instructions.
[Page 86] Shall render you most graceful in each fashion.
The next are skills in instruments, song and dancing
Stri.
Enough, those shall be made familiar to you
By voice and action instantly. A Song there.
SONG.
Whim.
Admirable pretty still.
Er.
Are these your Gentlewomens voices, sir?
Stri.
They are
Val.
What do you keep 'hem up like Nuns,
To sing and not be seen?
Stri.
Not alwayes sir.
But may it please yee Gentlemen and Ladies,
Now to observe the practice of our feet
In active dancing.
Neh.
That came I to learn,
And to speak French, do you think sir, you can bring
My mouth to handle the French tongue handsomly.
La.
He's apt to learn, sir, I can tell you that.
Gal.

Yes. I shall bring his Mout to it. But his Mont is yet a leetel too wide. But he shall have some of de wa­ter datde woman use for anoderting, to bring it bet­ter together, and he shall speak like de Fransh Lady.

Neh.

Pray sir, if you can like the Ladies daughter of Paris properlie.

Er.
Now Val. thou knowest the way.
Val.
I wonder sir, 'Mongst all your Arts and Sci­ences
You have so little judgement in a face,
Does his mouth appear wide to you? what false glasse
Are your eyes made of?
Gab.
What you mean?
Er.
Nay, friend.
Stri.
[Page 87]
Pray sir take no offence. Here was none meant.
Val.
Slander is no offence then. He has injur'd,
By breathing an aspersion on that face,
The life of beauty, and the soule of sweetnesse.
Wide mouth Y—.
Gal.
Begar Monsieur, you shall no point out mouth,
No, nor out-face the Frensh man with your great Bull-beef, and Mustard English looks.
Er.
Nay, gentle Val. forbear.
Val.
I'le stop.
This mouth that knowingly sayes he dares except
Against a tittle of his face or person.
But as he is an ignorant stranger, and
I must respect the company. I forbear.
La.
However sir, I can but thank your love in 't.
Er.
Now it works in her.
Val.
Pardon my plainnesse, Madam.
I never was so ta'ne with Masculine beauty.
And till I winne a woman that is like him,
Or has been like him, I can but languish.
La.
They told me I was like him, when I was younger.
[Aside.
And let me tell you y' are a comely Gentleman.
And be you but as honest as y' are handsom, you de­serve well.
Val.
Ʋmh, 'tis a hard matter to bring those ends to­gether.
Neh.
Mother f'sooth. Here's a man now for you to make my father!
Beyond the Knight or Ephraim!
La.
Were I free from the old Knight, I could look well upon him.
Ra.
Come servant, come away.
Val.
By no meanes, Mystresse, I do but sooth her up to jeare her for vou.
If you out-stay her not, you lose your honour.
She'll brag she has out-look't you. If you start.
Ra.
[Page 88]
Nay, and she go to that, I hope I can,
Look as ill favouredly as her selfe, or a better
Woman then she, and stay in spight of her, hah.
Val.
'Tis well done, Mystris, Madam shall I tell you.
But I would pray you not to storme, but laugh at it.
She sayes you are no match for me.
La.
Ha, ha, ha.
Val.
And knowing I aim at none but some great wi­dow.
Tells me she knows her husband's but short-liv'd.
I fear she means to break his heart.
La.
Say you so?
Val.
No words, good Madam.
Whim.
[...]et more whispering.
Pray Madam let us go. Neece come away,
For I fear Madam, as you wisely doubted,
This is no companie for us.
La.
Sir, I hope.
I am not yet so tied, but I may safelie
Use my own [...]reedom, I'le go when I please.
Whim.
O Grissel, Grissel, when would'st thou have said so?
Bli.
Loves power, I hope, hath wonne on destinie,
T' appoint this day for my delivery.
Er.
Nay, good Sir Swithin,—Ladies—we have yet
Dauncing to come, and a Collation promis'd.
Enter Camelion.
Stri.
Yes Gallants, now w' are readie, we but stayed for this fourth man here.
Val.
O Camelion.
Where is your wife? I hope your je lousie.
[Page 39] Locks her not up.
Cam.
Pish Honi soit. I hate it.
No, she has been preparing of a banquet,
Which now is ready for you, worthy Mr. Lightfoot,
And your faire company; jealousie I defie
The ba [...]e horne A gue, Mr. Askal I.
La.
What does he call you? Rascal?
Val.
Askal Madam.
My name is Askal. But the R in Master
Runs in [...]o't so, that sometimes it sounds doubtful.
I must be Knighted, Euphoniae gratia.
Sir Valentine Askal will come fairly off.
Cam.
Now note me Mr. Askal, and tell me if ever jealous man came so lightly off.
Enter Hannah.
Daunce.
Han.
Sir, your collation stayes.
Stri.
'Tis well, Gallants and Ladies
Wilt please you enter.
Omn.
Agreed, agreed, of all sides.
Ex. Omn.

Act. V.

Scoen. 1.

Enter Lafoy, Hardy, Matchil.
Laf.
INhospitable! 'tis inhumane, past
The cruelty of infidels.
Mat.
Thou speak'st
But thine own barbarous cruelty, hollow Frenchman.
Laf.
Abominable hypocrite.
Mat.
Cunning Villain.
Har.
Fie Gentlemen, forbear this unknown lan­guage.
[Page 90] And either speak to others understanding,
If you speak Justice:
Mat.
Give me then my sonne.
Laf.
Thou hast thy sonne, give me my sonne and daughter.
Har.

Pray Gentlemen, if you'll not hear each o­ther, yet both hear me.

Mat.
I pray Captain speak.
Har.
You had his sonne to foster; he your daughter.
You faithfully affirme you sent his sonne
For England a moneth since.
Laf.
And mine own with him.
Har.
You have confest you put away his daughter.
Mat.
And mine own with her, through her disobe­ence.
But 'twas upon advertisement by letter,
That he had first cast off my sonne to an
Untimely death.
Har.
Some Villain forg'd that letter,
And let me tell you sir, though in your house,
Lafoy's an honest and a temperate man.
You are rash and unadvis'd, what Lafoy speaks
I will maintain for truth: what you have done
I wish you could make good; But I may fear
You are mark't out by your own wilfulnesse,
The subject of much woe and sad misfortune.
Mat.
I know not what I am; but did you know
The number, and the weight of my afflictions,
You could not chide me thus without some pity.
Har.
Indeed I pity you, and now y'are calme,
Know that Lafoy sent his sonne over with yours,
And but for some affaires he had with me,
I'th Isle of Wight he had embarqu'd himself
With them, and brought hem to you.
Mat.
There's hope then yet
That my boy lives.
Hard.
[Page 91]
And is come over feare not.
Mat.
You comfort me, and now Lafoy y' are wel­come.
Laf.
But to what comfort, having lost my daugh­ter.
Mat.
Lost or lost not, mine's with her. And I
purpose now to be sad no longer. For I think
I ha' lost my wife too, there's a second comfort.
Har.
Take an example here Monsieur Lafoy,
And shake of sadnesse; mirth may come unlook't for.
Har.
I ha' lost a sonne too, a wilde roaring Lad,
About this town. And if I finde not him,
I doubt not I shall finde, that he has spent me
A hundred pound since I last heard of him.
By the way sir, I sent you a bill of change
Last moneth, to pay a hundred pieces for me.
Mat.
'Twas paid. I have your bill for my discharge.
How now?
Ha' you found your Mystresse.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Nor tidings of her, sir.
Mat.
She has found then some good exercise, I doubt not.
That holds her so.
Ser.
Sir, there's a Gentleman
Craves instant speech with you.
Mat.
Who? or whence comes he?
Ser.
He will be known to none before he sees you.
And, when you see him, he sayes he thinks you'll know him.
He's a brave gallant, one o'the Alamodes,
Nothing but French all over.
Mat.
Fetch him me quickly,
[Page 92] It is my sonne. Grammercie mine own heart,
That wast not light so suddenlie for nothing,
Pray Gentlemen, who e're you see, name no man
To me, unlesse I ask you. He comes, he comes.
Enter Cash.
I'm grown a proper man. Heaven make me thank­ful.
Just such a spark was I at two and twenty,
Set cloathes and fashion by. He thinks to try
If I can know him now. But there I'le fit him.
With me sir is your businesse?
Cash.
I presume
You do not know me, sir.
Mat.
As well as he that got him.
Pray Gentlemen keep your countenances. Not know you sir?
'Tis like I may have known you here to fore,
But cannot readily collect; perhaps
You are much chang'd by Travel, Time, and Bra­very,
Since I last saw you. There he may finde.
I partly guesse, but will not know him yet.
Good Geutlemen say nothing.
Har.
What ailes he troe.
Cash.
He knowes me, I feare, too soon. If now my plot faile, and he have a Counterplot upon me. I am laid up.
Cash.
Do you not know me yet sir.
Mat.
Know you, or know you not sir, what's your businesse.
Cash.
You sometimes had a sonne sir.
Mat.
Now he comes to me.
I had sir. But I hear he's slain in France.
[Page 93] And farewel he. Mark how I handle him.
And what sir of my fonne?
Cash.
He's dead you say.
Mat.
I mufe the Knave askes me not blessing though.
Cash.
But to supplie his losse you have a daugh­ter
That may endear a sonne, sir, to your comfort.
Mat.
Whither now flies he trow! Sir, do you know her.
Or where to finde her?
Cash.
First upon my knees
Let me implore your pardon.
Mat.
Now he comes home: And I can hold no longer.
My blessing boy, thou meanest. Take it, and wel­come
To a glad father. Rise, and let my teares,
If joy confirm thy welcom.
Cash.
I may not rise yet sir.
Mat.
No? why? what hast thou done? where's young Lafoy?
My true friends sonne here? whom I now must lock
Up in these armes, amidst a thousand welcomes.
Where's the young man?
Cash.
I know not who you mean sir.
Mat.
Distract me not.
Laf.
I feare you are destraught.
I know not him. How should he know my son.
Mat.
Let me look nearer.
Cash.
Sir, I am your Prentice.
Mat.
Whow—whow, whow, who—my Thiese and Runaway.
Cash.
Prav sir afford me hearing.
Mat.
Sir, your cause
Requires a Judges hearing.
Cash.
[Page 94]
I have put me
Into your hands, and not without much hope,
To gaine your pardon, and your daughters love.
Mat.
'Tis roundly spoken. Gentlemen, I'le tell you.
This gallant youth, has gallanted away
A thousand pound of mine.
Cash.
For your advantage sir: For
By this way
Of Gallantry, as you call it, I have travell'd
Through the Resorts and Haunts publike and pri­vate
Of all the Gallants in the Town. In brief
I have found your daughter, where she had been lost
For evet in your brother Strigoods hands.
Mat.
Canst bring me thither?
Laf.
Is my daughter with her?
Cash.
Madam Gabriella, the French Damsel's there.
And others, men and women, whom you'll know when you come there.
Laf.
Good sir, lets hasten thither.
Mat.
You'll aid me, sirs?
Har.
Yes, with our lives and fortune.
Ex. omnes.

Scoen. 2. Enter Erasmus, Blithe, Camelion.

Er.
Be fearlesse Lady, and upon my life,
Honour, and faith; you are secure from danger.
Bli.
Sir, I have put me in your hands you see
So liberally that I may feare to suffer,
If not a censure, yet a supposition
Of too much easinesse, in being led
So suddenly so farre towards your desire.
But my opinion of your noblenesse
Joyn'd with your Protestation, pleads my pardon
[Page 95] At least it may, the wretchednesse considered,
To which I was enthrall'd.
Er.
It is not more my love
Unto your vertue, and your faire endowments.
Then pity in me labours your release.
Nor is it rather to enrich my self.
Then to save you from so immense a danger,
As you had fallen into by yielding under
Your Uncles weaknesse in so fond a match.
Bli.
Blesse me from being fool-clog'd.
Er.
Now you are free.
If you can think your self so, and but yield
Unto my present Counsel.
Cam.
Do so Lady
Before you are mist within. Here is the Closet,
And here's the Key in your own hands, And pre­sently I'le fetch a Priest.
Er.
You see
I still deal fairlie w'ye; and give you power
To keep guard on your self.
Bli.
And yet I yield
My self your prisoner.
Cam.
In: some body comes.
She will be yours. And let me tell you, sir,
I wish you as much joy with her, as I
Have with my Cock.
Er.
You have befriended me
In this good enterprise: And one good turne
Requires another. And now for that I told you,
Touching your wife, your Cock you so rejoyce in.
Cam.
Alas. alas, good Gentlemen, you would fain
Ha' me be jealous. Honi soit, y'are short.
Enter Val. Hannah.
Er.
Stand by and observe.
Val.
[Page 96]
Do you begin to boggle,
And when I send for twenty pieces, do you
Send me but ten?
Cam.
What's that?
Er.
Nay mark.
Val.
I pray,
What have I had in all by your account.
Han.
At several times, you have had fifty pounds of my poor husbands money.
Val.
What's that to the free pleasure of my body
Which must afford you sweet and lustie payment?
You froward Monkey. But perhaps you ha' got
Some new-found Horn-maker, that you may think,
Deserves your husbands money better, for
Doing his Journey-work, one o'the Monsieurs,
Or both perhaps i'th' house here under's Antlers,
It must be so, why else of all the town,
Must I be one o'th' last that must take notice
Of your new College here, your brazen face Col­lege
Of feates and fine fagaries? do you grow weary of me?
Han.
Do you grow wilde? speak lower, do you mean to undo me?
Val.
Will tother fifty pound undo thee, I have lost
All that I had within among your Monsieurs.
And you must yield supply, or lose a friend
Of me.
Cam.
What a way would so much money have gone
In betts at the ducking pond?
Han.
Will no lesse serve your turn then fifty?
Val.
No lesse. All makes (you know) but a just hun­dred.
And there I'le stick; and stick close to thee too,
Else all flies open. What care I who knows
[Page 97] Your credits breach, when you respect not mine.
Cam.
'Tis too well known already; All [...]s too open.
My house, my purse, my wife, and all's too open.
Han.
O me, undone.
Cam.
Was ever loving husband
So much abusd?
Val.
Enquire among your neighbours.
Er.
Be patient man.
Cam.
O thou close whore.
Val.
Take heed, sir, what you say.
Eene now you said she was too open, sir.
Y'are in two tales already.
Han.
I feare he's mad
Or jealous, which is worse.
Val.
Pish, Honi soit.
He jealous, he defies it.
Cam.
Do you deride me?
Sir, you can witnesse with me, he confest
Receipt of fifty pounds my wife has lent him,
(False woman that she is) for Horn-making,
Job Journey-work.
Han.
You are deceiv'd.
Cam.
I know.
(At least I think) I am deceiv'd in both.
My money and thy honesty, but the Lawes
In both shall do me right, or all shall flie for't.
I'le instantly to councel.
Han.
Hear me first.
Er.
By all meanes hear her first. Pray grant her that.
Cam.
I dare not look on her, lest I be tempted
To yield unto my shame and my undoing.
Val.
Will you not heare your Cock, your Nansie,
Nanny Cock.
Han.
Time was you would not ha' denied me that.
Cam.
[Page 98]
Nor any thing, if my Cock had but stood upon't.
Such was my love, but now,
Han.
But now y'are jealous.
Cam.
Have I not cause?
Han.
Here's tother fifty pieces, take 'hem sir.
They are full weight, and truly told.
Val.
Brave wench.
Han.
If you will law, sir, you shall law for some­thing.
Cam.
What dost thou mean?
Val.
I hope she'll humble him so,
That he shall keep our chamber-door for us,
While we get boyes for him. A dainty Rogue,
She tempts me strongly now. Would she would call me
About it presently.
Han.
That money sir
May serve to countenance you among the Gamesters
Within, that blew you up. The Lady widow
May think the better of your credit too,
Being so good i'th' house.
Val.
I'le streight amongst 'em.
Cam.
Councel me not sir. All my joyes are gone.
I cannot think now what a ducking pond
Can be good for, except to d [...]own me in't.
Er.
Alas, poor man, I was in this too busie.
Han.
Stay, you shall promise me before my hus­band,
That you will never more attempt my chastity.
Val.
That bargaine's yet to make. Though before him
I may say much, I will not stand to that
For all the wealth he has.
Han.
You shall protest
Then, fairly, as you are a Gentleman
[Page 99] You never have enjoy'd me.
Cam.
I like that.
Val.
No, no, I cannot safely, for in that
I shall surrender up my interest
In's house; and he may warne me out on't. No,
Take heed o' that. 'Tis not his tother hundred
Shall make me slip that hold.
Cam.
I am lost again.
Han.
What a bold thief is this! Pray heare me, sir.
You may remember that I ask't you once
What Countreyman you were.
Val.

Yes, when you first cast your good liking on me, and I told you.

O'th' Isle of Wight: And what o' that?
Han.
And you
Call Captain Hardyman, their father-in-law.
Val.

You wrong me basely, to say I call him any thing; for he gives me nothing.

Han.
You wrong him basely. Look you, Can you reade.
Val.
I had done ill to venter (as I ha' done)
On Salisbury plain else. Hah, what's here

That daughter, I sent you order to receive for me an hundred pounds. If you finde that your brother the Spendthrift Val. Askal, (Zookes that I) be in any want, furnish him according to your own discretion.

I am Val. Askal, where's the money? My hundred
pound, ha' you't.
Han.
It seems a Sister of yours had it.
Ha' you a sister?
Val,
He had a daughter by my mother, but
He plac [...]d her out a childe, I know not where
Where's that young whore trow? Hannah I think
her name was. Hang me if [...] know directly.
Cam.
My wives name's Hannah, sir.
Han.
[Page 100]
I am that sister, brother, but no whore.
Er.
Now Val. your brags to make men think you lay with her.
Han.
You have your hundred pound sir. Look you, husband.
This is my fathers letter which you wrote on.
That which you dar'd the devil and Clerks to coun­terfeit, reade your own hand.
Cam.
Honi soit qui maly pense.
Er.
I must admire this woman.
Val.
Do'st think I did not know thee.
Han.
No sir, nor would I that you should,
Till I had foil'd you in your course,
And had my will to make my husband jealous.
Cam.
My Cock, my Cock again, my Nanny cock,
Cock-all my Cock-a-hoop, I am overjoy'd,
See, see thy father too.
Enter Matchil, Hardy, Lafoy, Cash.
Mat.
This is the woman.
To whom I paid your money.
Hard.
'Tis my daughter—.
My blessing on you.—What are you here too.
Val.
And ask you blessing too. Your hundred pound Has bound me to't. Heaven blesse you, Here's halfe one still, yes, and the better halfe, for tother's spent.
Hard.
O y'are a great good husband.
Val.
I would be one. And here's a good rich wi­dow
Now in the house, your countenance may help me,
My Sister and my Brother both can tell you,
How orderly and civilly I live.
Cam.
O wag.
Hard.
'Tis like sir, I shall prove your Furtherer.
What is she?
Val.
[Page 101]
That Merchants Sister, and a Lady sir.
I would not have him heare.
Hard.
Well talk aside then.
[talk aside.
Mat.
In that I'm partly satisfied.
Er.
I love you sir,
And waited on your wife but as your Sp [...]e,
For feare he might have led her to more folly.
Mat:
But saw you not two such Damsels here?
Er.
Here are
Some in the house that would not be seen by us.
Cash.
Because they thought you'd know 'hem.
Er.
And if that
Old fellow be your brother Strigood, tis most strange
Mat.
You know not him here do you?
Er.
No not I.
Mat.
'Tis my man Cash.
Er.
Most wonderful.
Mat.
We shall know more anon.
Laf.
Pray haste sir, to discovery: I would f [...]ine
Once see my daughter.
Mat.
I would see a little
The fashions o'the house first.
Cash.
Pray obscure
Your selves in that by room there, where you may
See and hear all that passes, nor can any
Passe out o'th' house without your notice.
The Gentlemen and I will mix again
With the Society, if they please.
Er.
Agreed.
Within Strigood. Where are you Gent'emen?
Er.
Come away Val.
Mat.
Is not that the Hell-hounds voice?
Cash
Yes, 'tis your brother.
Mat.
Good Captain go with us upon discovery.
Han.
I'le seat you to see all, and be unseen.
Cam.
[Page 102]
Do so good Cock. Do so now sir, I'le fetch the Priest.
Ex. Han. Hard. Mat. Lafoy.
Enter Strigood.
Stri.
O Gentlemen, you have lost such sport, the
Lady
And Merchants wife have been by th' eares.
Cash
Could not
The old Knight part 'hem?
Stri
He has done his best,
And almost lost his eyes in the adventure
Betwixt the Furies tallons▪
Er.
But are they friends agen?
Stri.
And deep in complement.
Our school affords no such in act or language.
Enter Lady, Rach.
La.
Sister, Indeed I am too much your trouble.
Ra.
Pray Madam let me serve you truly truly.
I'le be your servant for a yeare and a day
La.
Indeed, indeed you wrong your self, I am yours.
Ra.
I am your servants servant, and will serve
Under your Ladiships Cook to do you service.
La.
Indeed you may not.
La.
If I may not be
Accepted for your houshold servant, let me
Become your Chare-woman▪ in any office
From Cupboard to (lose-stool, I can do all
To do your Ladiship service.
Val,
This now savours of Complement indeed.
Ra.
In sooth, 'tis sooth, forsooth the tale I tell you.
[Page 103] Enter Neh.
Neh.
Well acted mother.
La.
Y' are too obsequious
Good gentle Sister.
Ra.
I am short of good.
Gentle I grant I am, for I bite no body,
Command me then sweet Madam.
Neh.
And very well acted Nant.
La.
O you shall pardon me▪
Ra.
I am no Pope, for your sake would I were.
La.
Your courtesie o'recomes me.
Ra.
O not so.
I wish it could forsooth, would it were better for you.
Neh.
Exceeding well acted o'both sides.
Mother and Aunt f'sooth, Amardla you have done't
Better then the two School-Mystresses to d [...]y
Could do their Whatshicomes, their Complements
I think you call 'hem. But I ha' lost my Mystresse
To complement withal. Mrs. Bli [...]he Tripshort
Has out-strip't me, Amardla that she has.
La.
Where's he [...] wise Uncle should ha' look't to her.
Neh.
He's crying all about the house for her,
But cannot finde her. How shall I have her now?
La.
Thou shalt not have her boy, she's naught.
Neh.
Then he's
Naught too. You sha'nt have him.
La.
Nor will, I feare not.
Neh.
Think of the Gentleman, mother that out-fac'd
The Frenchman for me. I would you had a thousand such in France now.
Val.
God-a-mercy boy.
Er.
Peace, hear a little more.
[Page 104] Enter Camelion.
Cam.

Sir; come away.

I have found a carelesse Curate, that has nothing but a bare Coat too loose shall chopt't up presently. And give him but a piece, he'll fear no Cannon.

Er.
I am bound to thee for ever.
Ex. Cam. Er.
Stri.
Whither goes he?
Val.
No matter, let him go t'untrusse perhaps.
Enter Whimlby, Ephraim.
Eph.
I say she is i'th house.
Whim.
She's gone, she's gone.
Whim.
She's flowen out of a window, or chimney-top then.
I'm sure I wrtch't the door with epen eyes
E're since you entred, as my Lady charg'd me,
Lest her childe might slip out to play i th' street.
Neh.
And I am here you see. He cannot see
He has no more eyes then a sucking pig,
And yet he weeps like a roasted one.
Whim.
I am abus'd,
And r [...]nder me my Neece,
You have stolne her for your sonne.
La.
My sonne defies her,
As I do you, old whining wither'd fellow,
That has no moisture in him but for teares.
Val.
That is my Cue. A young well govern'd man
Were fitter, Madam.
Ra.
Where have you been servant?
Val.
I speak to my Lady.
Ra.
My Lady, I think you said.
Are you so stout sir▪ hah?
La.
I rather think he playes the cunning hypocrite
[Page 105] With his false teares, and packt her hence himself
Ra.
My Lady mindes you not, and I can learn
To give you a broad side too.
Eph.
Madam, that cannot be, for I have seen
All that went out, or came into the house▪
Since you. Here came a Church man in ere while.
Whim.
A Churchman! then I feare she's clbsely mar­ried unto her wo and mine.
Neh.
Perhaps to me.
Behinde my back you said she would do so.
And before him came in your brother Matchil.
La.
My brother, who her husband?
Eph.
Yes, with others.
Ra.
My husband, I think you [...]aid What a foule house these washing dayes make?
Val.
Nay, 'tis no Jest Now [...]dies let me tell you,
And sad Sir Swithin; pray lend all your eares.
Stri.
Cash, we are betray [...] Cash if we be not nimble.
I smell a Fox. Hy thee up quickly Cash,
And hurry down the wenches We'll make bold with
My Ladies Coach to hurry us away.
Enter Matchil, Hardy, Lafoy, Hannah.
Mat.
But not too fast, Go sir, fetch down the wenches.
Thou shamelesse Reprobate. Doest thou hang thy head now?
I'le take a course to hang the rest o'thee.
Your Ladiships well met at the new school.
So is your Chare-woman. Ha' you profited
By the devils doctrine here? you weep sin Swithin
For the iniquity of the times.
Neh.
You mean
His Neece, pray Vncle did you meet her,
She's gone away too, after my Cousin Joyce,
[Page 106] And the French maid, I think, she is here agen.
Enter Eras. Blithe, Camelion.
Amardla, wipe your eyes, and look Sir Swithin,
The tother honest Gentleman has found her.
And let him take her for his paines for me.
Er.
I thank your love. But sir, 'tis your consent
We only seek.
Mat.
Sir Swithin, let 'em have it,
Mat.
This is the Gentleman I would have spoke for:
In birth, in meanes, in person every way
Deserving her. Take him upon my word.
Hard.
And Madam, since you stick but upon Joyn­cture,
Having heard lately well of his husbandry.
Han.
Thank a good sister, sir.
Hard.
I will secure you
Three hundred pounds a year, your brother knows me.
Mat.
With make good his word. Agree by your selves.
Lad.
Upon these termes, 'tis like we shall agree.
Sir Swithin are you pleas'd.
Whim.
Pleas'd or displeas'd.
It seems they are married.
Cam.
Yes, I assure you,
I saw their hands joyn'd, and I heard 'hem both
Answer the Priest.
Whim.
I will no longer whine.
Heaven give you joy, As y'are your owne, y' are mine.
Cam.
There are more weddings i'th' house, your daughters,
Are linck't by this time to the two young Frenchmen.
Mat.
His daughters? ours I fear? what French? where are they?
[Page 107] Enter Cash, two sonne's, Joy, Gab.
Cash.
Here sir, undone I feare.
Mat,
What are you married.
Mat.
Jun: Sir, she is mine, I must and will main­tain it.
Laf.
Jun. And she is mine.
Laf.
This is your sonne. And this
Is mine.
Mat.
This is your daughter. And this mine. Each married to her brother.
Laf.
Jun. Mon Pere Je desire vestre Benediction Jour pour moy & ma fennue.
Laf.
You are lost children all, was ever thread
By fate so crossely sp [...]n, so crossely wed?
Mat.
I know not how to Blesse you, or to look
On your incestuous eyes.
Laf.
Jun. What is dat Incest,
We have commit noting, we have no time,
Since we were marry for so much as kisse,
Begar no point so much as but one kisse.
Har.
Be not dismay'd. These marriages are none.
The errour of the persons nullifies
The verbal ceremony; and 'tis well
They past not unto further rites: I'le finde
A lawful way to clear all this. And then
As you and they consent, they shall exchange
And marry in due order.
Laf.
Jun. Sir I tanck you.
You'ave speak very well. And we shall make.
De exshange presently. A new exchange,
De new Exshange indeed, for de husbands
To shange the wifes before they can be wearie.
Prenez mon frere, la voici la' une pour lautre.
Dere, is one for anoder:
Har.
[Page 108]
Is each party
Agreed, and so content?
Ma.
J. Gab. We are.
Jo.
And we.
Laf. Ju.
Wee wee, I ensuis tresbien contult.
Mat. Ja.
Provided that we have our fathers leaves and councels.
Mat.
Can you seek fathers leaves or councels now,
That have run from 'hem in your disobedience,
Into the snares of hell: too farre I fear
To be releast. O hell-bred Villain.
Stri.
Your brother o' one side.
Mat. Ju.
Lend but a patient care.
And by my hopes of your desired pardon
I'le quit you of your feare. 'Tis true, my duty
At my Arrival should have wing'd me to you.
But hearing of your late, ill talk't on marriage.
Mat.
O that root of mischief,
And of my Sisters flight as [...]oth to appear to you,
As to presume a welcom; I was curious
First to observe the Town, and taste the newes;
When more by Providence then accident,
Here we made choice of lodging, saw and lik't
The practices of the Society,
Until this wicked man; (who still presumes
To call you brother,) finding us youthful strangers,
And (as he might suppose) wanton—
Mat.
He made
A bargain with you for their Maiden heads.
Cash
told me that, and how that hellish purpose
Was vertuously declin'd.
Stri.
O counterfeit Cash.
Mat.
But must you therefore, knowing whose sons you were.
Marry you knew not whom.
Mat. Ju.
Pardon me, sir.
[Page 109] Our loves were noble, and by due enquirie,
Fetch't from each others faithful breast, the knowledge
Of each other.
Mat.
VVhat! and marry then
Each his own Sister? Riddle me not to death.
Mat. Ju.
Sir, I have done. And now that I have said
The worst that might have hapned by his practice,
To make his shame or his repentance greater,
VVho only was my aim. VVe are not married,
None of us all are married one to other.
Cam.
No, I assure you sir. Howere I li'd
At their request, (small matter for a friend)
I saw all the hurt the Priest did here to day.
That was upon them two there.
Er.
Thank you sir.
Mat.
You shall be then: And so take hands in earnest.
Is't not a double Match Lafoy?
Laf.
VVithout
All manner of condition I consent.
Mat.
I am full of joy.
Cash.
O can you pardon me sir.
Mat.
Good boy, good boy. I know not how a City
Could stand without such Prentices. And hope
This wants few such. But what canst thou now say
Brother, o' one side for thy felfe. Speak quickly▪
VVhile the good humour holds me to be friends
VVith all the world: yet yonder's one lies heavy
Athwart my stomack.
Stri.
Y'are full of joy you say.
And I say had it been within my power,
To have broke your heart, I had don't. Therefore in me
Be comforted and love me; for I finde
I have no power to hurt you, and will therefore
Attempt no further.
Mat.
Brotherly spoke in troth.
[Page 110] And worthily worth an hundred mark a month,
Shall ha't.
Stri.
Know then into the bargain, that
I forg'd the letter that suggeited to you
My Nephews death, in hope of means that way.
Mat.
Honestly said agaiu. Now what say you?
Ra.
I say that I am humbled on my knees.
I beg your pardon.
Mat.
All's too well me thinks.
But heark, before you break up school, lets have
Oue frisk, one fling now, one cariering dance,
And then pack up.
Omn.
Agreed, Agreed, Agreed.
Stri.
Play then Les tous ensembles.
Neh.
That's the French name on't, Uncle, 'tis in Dutch
call'd All-to-mall; and I call it in English.
Omnium Gatherum, 'tis the daintiest daunce.
We had it here to day: I and my mother,
My Aunt and all can daunce in't, as well as the best.
With every one in their own footing. Now observe.
Daunce.
Mat.
You have done well. Now pray lets break up school.
Hard.
But yet not break up house. My sonne and daughter.
Have given me power to call their Supper mine.
To which I'le give you welcome, Ale and VVine.
Deus dedit his quoque finem, laus Deo.
FINIS.
These BOOKs following are sold by Andrew Crook, at the Green Dragon in St. Pauls Church-yard.
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    • —His three Sermons upon several occasions.
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    • [Page] Doctor Day his Treatise of the Resurrection, 1 Cor. 15. 16.
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    • A Brief of the Bibles History.
…

THE QUEEN And CONCUBINE.

A COMEDIE

BY RICHARD BROME.

Asperius nihil est Humili cum surgit in Altum.
—Si vis vincere, disce pati.

LONDON: Printed for A. Crook, and Hen. Brome, at the Gun in Ivy Lane. 1659.

Drammatis Personae.

  • Gonzago. King of Sicilie.
  • Gonzago. His Son the Prince.
  • Horatio. An old humorous Courtier.
  • Lodovico. Eulalia's faithful Counsellor.
  • Flavello. alias Alphonso, Alinda's Sycophant.
  • Four Lords, two Bishops.
  • Sforza. Two Rivall Generals.
    Petruccio.
  • Two other Captains and Souldiers. Strozzo. Two cashier'd Lieutenants.
    Fabio.
    A Doctor. Suborned false witnesses against Eula­lia.
    A Midwife.
  • Pedro. A Gentleman of Palermo.
  • Poggio. Two chief Inhabitants of Palermo.
    Lollio.
  • Three or four Countrey-men of Palermo.
    Curat.  
    Cryer. Of Palermo.
    Guard.  
  • Andrea. Eulalia's Fool.
    Jago.  
    Rugio. Two other her Servants.
    Jaylor.
      Women.
    Kings Guard Eulalia, The Banish'd Queen.
    Petruccio's Servant. Alinda, the veil'd Concubine.
    Genius of Eulalia. Three or four Girls.
  • The Scoene Sicilie.

The first Song, for pag. 88.

VVHat if a Day, or a moneth, or a year
Crown thy Delights
With a thousand wish'd contentings?
May not the chance of a Night or an Hour
Cross thy Delights
With as many sad Tormentings?
Fortune, Honour, Beautie, Birth,
Are but blossomes dying.
Wanton Pleasures, doating Mirth,
Are but Shadows flying.
All our Joys
Are but Toys,
Idle thoughts deceiving:
None hath power
Of an Hour
In our lifes bereaving.

The second Song, for pag. 111.

HOw bless'd are they that wast their wearied Hours
In solemn Groves, and solitarie Bowers,
Where neither eye nor Ear
Can see or hear
The frantique mirth
And false Delights of frolique earth:
Where they may sit and pant,
And breath their pursy Souls;
Where neither grief consumes, nor griping want
Afflicts; nor sullen care controuls.
Away false Joys, ye Murther where ye kisse.
There is no Heaven to that, no Life to this.

ACT. I.

Scoen. I.

Enter Horatio, Lodovico.
Hor.
THe clouds of Doubts and Fears are now dispers'd,
And Joy, like the resplendent Sun, spreads forth
New life and spirit over all this Kingdom,
That lately gasp'd with Sorrow.
Lod.
Now the Court
Puts on her rich Attire, and like fresh Flora,
After the blasts of winter, spreads her Mantle,
Deck'd with delightful Colours, to receive
The jocund Spring, that brings her this new life.

Scoen. II.

Enter Flavello bare before the Prince, the Queen Eulalia, Alinda, Attendants, Hoboys,
Hor.
The Queen comes on, Joy in that face ap­pears
That lately was overwhelmed in her tears,
Lod. and Hor.
Health and perpetual Joy unto the Queen,
Eul.
Thanks my good Lords, I am prepar'd to meet it.
How neer's the King?
Hor.
At hand, my Soveraign.
Eul.
Welcome that happy word that leads the way,
[Page 2] But yet he is not come, he is not here:
Never so sweet an expectation
Appear'd so tedious: pray set on apace,
That I may live yet to an interview
With my lov'd honour'd Lord.
Hor.
That your delay
May seem less grievous, hear this by the way,
A brief relation of the Kings success
In this his late well-won Battail.
Eul.
Be it so.
But mention not his dangers, good my Lord.
Hor.
That were to make his Conquest nothing worth:
It would make Victory upon his head,
As she had flown into his Burgonet,
To shrowd her from a storm, and not to sit
Or rather stand triumphant on a foot,
With display'd wings upon the utmost Sprigg
Of his high stourishing P [...]ume, vaunting her safety
So perch'd and so supported by his Valour.
Prin.
Pray Mother hear the dangers too; the worst
Will make the best the sweeter: I could hear
Of dangers yet to come; and Women may
Discourse of Perils past each Holy-day.
Hor.
Well said, young Prince, right of the Kings own Metal:
And gracious Madam, let me tell you, though
You do not love to hear of blood and danger,
Y' have brought a Warrior forth, I do foresee't:
I love to speak my thoughts, I hope you trust me,
A right old Courtier I, still true to th' Crown.
Prin.
How this old fellow talkes! you said, my Lord,
You would discourse the Battail.
Ho.
Excellent Prince,
I was i'th' way: but the Queen put me out on't.
Eul.
Well, well my Lord, deliver't your own way.
Hor.
Then, humph, humh, humh, in my own way.
But by the way, no way to derogate
[Page 3] From the Kings matchless resolution.
A word or two of the best Soldier
In all the world (under the King I mean,
I know my limits) that's our brave General,
Lord Sforza, Madam, your stout Country-man,
Though our Kings Subject now; that bore him so
At the great marriage-Triumph in Tourneament,
Tumbling down Peers and Princes, that e'er since,
He's cal'd your Champion, and the Queens old Soul­dier.
Eul.
But what of him now in the battail?
Hor.
Marry but this, That as we have a King,
And as the King brings victory, nay life,
Home to his Queen, his Country and our comforts,
Next under Heaven we are to give the praise
To this old Souldier, to this man, the man
Indeed, another man is not to be
(Except the King) nam'd in this Victory.
Eul.
You seem my Lord to honour Sforza yet
Before the King.
Hor.
Excuse me gracious Madam,
I know my limits: what? before the King?
I am an old Courtier I, still true to th' Crown,
But thus it is declar'd, that in the battail,
When in the heat of fight the mingled bloods
Of either Army reek'd up to the Sun,
Dimming its glorious light with goryvapour,
When slaughter had rang'd round about the field,
Searching how by advantage to lay hold upon out King.
Eul.
Prithee no more.
Prin.
Good mother.
Hor.
At last she spied and circled him about
With Spears and swords so thickly pointed on him.
That nothing but his sacred valour could
Give light for a supply to his relief,
Which shin'd so through and through his wals offoes,
[Page 4] As a rich Diamond 'mongst an heap of Ruines,
And so was found by the quick eye of Sforza,
When like a Deitie arm'd with wrath and Thunder,
He cut a path of horror through the Battail
Raining down blood about him as he flew,
Like a prodigious Cloud of pitch and fire,
Until he pierc'd into the straight, wherein
The Royal Person of our King was at
His last bare stake of one life to a thousand.
Eul.
I dare not hear it, yet.
Hor.
Then in a word, old Sforza fetcht him off,
And with his sword which never touch'd in vain,
Set him i'th' heart of's Army once again.
Eul.
That I like well.
Hor.
That did your Champion, Madam,
The Queens old Souldier, and your Father, Lady:
D'ye simple at it? such a Souldier breaths not,
Only the King except: now note the Miracle,
The King receiv'd and gave new life at once
Of and unto his Army, which new life
Was straight way multipli'd, as if the lives
Of all the slain on both sides were transfus'd
In our remaining part, who with a present fury
Made on with that advantage on the Foe,
That the whole field was won as at one blow.
I am prevented.
[Shout within, Victory]

Scoen. III.

Enter Captain, Drum and Colours, King and Sforza, Souldiers.
The King embraces and kisses the Queen, the Prince and Alinda.
King.
Now cease our Drums, and furle our En­signes up:
[Page 5] Dismiss the Souldiers, hostile Armes surcease,
Whiles we rejoyce, safe in these Armes of Peace.
Sfor.
Go Souldiers, better never stood the shock
Of danger, or made good their Countreys cause.
Drink this to the Kings health and victory.
Sold.
Heaven bless the King, and our good General Sforza.
Again.
Long live the King and Sforza, Sforza and the King,
Kin.
The King and Sforza, Sforza and the King,
Equal at least, and sometimes three notes higher,
Exit Capt. and Sould.
Sound Sforza's name then doth the Kings: the voyce
Of the wild People as I pass'd along
Threw up his praises neerer unto Heaven
Ever methought then mine: but be it so,
He has deserv'd well, now let me again
Embrace the happie comforts of my life.
Through deadly dangers, yea through death it self,
I am restor'd unto my Heaven on Earth,
My wife and Son: a thousand blessings on thee.
Say, dearest life, whose prayers I know have been
Successful to me in this doubtful War,
How welcome am I?
Eul.
That's more than I can speak:
For should I bring comparisons of the Spring,
After a Frosty winter to the Birds,
Or rich returns of ventures to the Merchant,
After the twentieth currant news of Shipwrack,
Redemption from captivity, or the Joyes
Women conceive after most painful Childbirths,
All were but Fabulous nothings to the Bliss
Your presence brings in answer to my Prayers:
Heaven heard me at the full: when I forget
To send due praises thither, let me die
Most wretched, though my gratitude shall never
[Page 6] Sleep to th' inferior means, e'en to the meanest
Souldier assistant to your safe return,
Especially to you good Sforza, Noble Souldier,
I heard of your fidelitie.
Sfor.
My duty Madam.
King.
Are you one of his great Admirers too?
The world will make an Idol of his Valour,
While I am but his shadow: Ile but think on't,
Indeed he's worth your favour, he has done won­ders.
Sfor.
Let me now speak, I may not hear these wonders bounc'd,
King.
You do forget your self.
Eul.
What says my Lord?
King.
Nay I have done.
Gonzago, you and I have chang'd no words yet;
I have brought Victory home, which may perhaps
Be checkt at when my heat shall fall to ashes.
How will you maintain your Fathers quarrels ore his Grave?
Prin.
I do not hope t' outlive you Sir, but if I must,
I sure shall hope to keep your name and right
Alive whilst I live, though I cannot hope
To have so good a Souldier at my Standard
As Warlike Sforza.
King.
This is more and worse
Then all the rest: the childe has spoken plainly,
I had been nothing without Warlike Sforza:
Ile make him nothing, and no longer stand
His Cypher that in number makes him ten.
My Lords, my thanks to you for your due care
In my late absence.
Hor.
All was Loyal Dutie,
As we are old Courtiers Sir, still true to th' Crown.
King.
I have found you faithful.
Hor.
It befits true Statesmen
Watchful to be at home 'gainst civil harms,
When Kings expose themselves to hostile Arms.
King.
[Page 7]
There's a State-Rime now: but Horatio,
Has not Petruccio visited the Court
Since our departure?
Hor.
Pox on Petruccio.
Bless me, and be good to me: how thinks your
Grace of my Allegiance, and can ask
Me that Question?
King.
Now he is in his Fit.
Hor.
The Hangman take him. Petruccio King?
Peugh, peugh; I hate to name him.
How can you think your State had been secur'd
If he had breath'd amongst us? That vile wretch,
Whom in your Kingly wisdom you did banish
The Court for a most dangerous Male-content,
After his just repulse from being your General,
When he durst stand in Competition
VVith brave deserving Sforza here, the best
Most absolute Souldier of the world.
King.
Still Sforza!
Hor.
Except your Majesty.
King.
There is an Exception wrung out,
Hor.
He come at Court by my permission?
I should as soon be won to set your Court
On fire, as see him here.
King.
Send for him speedily.
Hor.
[Starts]
Your Majesty is pleas'd to have it so.
King.
And upon your Allegiance
Which you so boast of, let me have him here,
And very speedily; Ile have your head else.
Hor.
Nay since it is your Highness pleasure, and
So seriously commanded, I will send
My own head off my shoulders, but wee'l have him:
In what you can command, I dare be Loyal.
King.
Look to it,
[goes to the Queen]
Hor.

It must be so, this is one of his un-to-be-examin'd hastie Hu­mours, one of his starts: these and a devillish gift

He has in Venerie, are all his faults.
Well, I must go, and still be true to th' Crown.
Exit Horatio.
Lod.
[Page 8]
Petruccio sent for! who for braving of
Brave Sforza here, so lately was confin'd.
Flav.
I cannot think the Court must hold 'm both
At once, less they were reconcil'd, which is
As much unlikely: what do you think my Lord?
Lod.
I know not what to think.
King.
She Sforza's Daughter, say you?
Queen.
Yes my Lord.
King.

She's a right handsome one: I never knew he had a Daughter.

Eul.

He brought her o'er a Childe with me, when happily I came your Bride, bred her at home, she never saw the Court, till now I sent for her to be some comfort in your long absence.

King.
Sforza's absence, I fear you mean.
[aside]
Eul.
And trust me Sir, Her simple Countrey In­nocence at first
Bred such delight in me, with such affection,
That I have call'd her Daughter, to embolden her.
King.
O did you so?
Eul.
And now she has got some spirit,
A prettie lively spirit, which becomes her
Methinks so like her Fathers.
King.
Very good.
I like her strangely.
Eul.
What was that she said
To you Conzago?
Gonz.
That Heaven might ha' pleased
T' have fashion'd her out to have been a Queen.
King.
Comely Ambition.
Sfor.
Reconcile all quickly,
Or you had better never have been born,
Then disobey my last command, which was
Neve [...] to see the Court till I induc'd you.
Do you stare at me?
Alin.
I but obey'd the Queen.
I hope shee'l answer't.
Sfor.
No more, Ile talk with you anon.
King.
[Page 9]
Come Sforza, Welcome to Court, so is your
Daughter too, I have tane notice of her: O f [...]irest, welcome.
Kisses her. Sforza storms.
Come you both with me this night, weel Feast:
Pray bid us welcome all, as but one Guest.
Eul.
I shall in all obey you.
Alin.
And for this,
Less then a King I shall abhor to kiss.
Exeunt.

Scoen. IV.

Enter Petruccio.
Petr.
Repuls'd? disgrac'd? and made the scorn o'th' Court?
Is the advancement of an upstart stranger,
Because he is the Queens dear Countrey-man?
Have I for all my many Services,
Found the reward of being made an outcast?
Could not the King be pleas'd, though he advanc'd
Sforza unto the Honour I deserv'd,
To trust me in his service? could he think
My sword could be an hinderance in the Battail,
Or have delay'd the winning of the Field!
And must his Court and presence which I have
VVith my observance dignifi'd, reject me
Now, as a dangerous and infectious person!
Tis a new way to gratifie old Souldiers.
So soon return'd? I do commend thy speed.
The news at Court.
Enter Servant in haste: switch.
Serv.
The King's come bravely home,
And every ear is fill'd with Victory,
But chiefly with the Fame of Sforza's Valour.
Petr.
Sforza? Ser. Lord Sforza Sir, I cry him mercy,
The new Lord General.
Petr.
Thou com'st too fast
[strikes him]
Serv.
So me thinks too, less 'twere to better purpose.
Petr.
[Page 10]
The Fame of Sforza's Valour, good if it last.
VVhat other news?
Serv.
I have told you all the best.
Petr.
If thou hast worse, let's have it quickly.
Serv.
You shall, That you may flie the danger.
Petr.
VVhat is't, without your Preface?
Serv.

Here are Messengers sent from the King to you; pray Heaven all be well. Ther's the old tutchie testie Lord, that rails, and never could abide you, since the King look'd from your Honour.

Petr.
Th' hast made me amends, ther's for thy news.
Is this bad news?
Serv.
Truely my Lord, I think so:
For if the King had sent to you for good,
I think he would have sent one lov'd you better.
Petr.
VVhat? then the old Courtier? thou knowst him not.
Ile shew him thee. He is the onely man
That does the King that service, just to love
Or hate as the King does, so much and so long,
Just to a scruple or a minute, and then he has an
ignorant Loyaltie, to do as the King bids him, though
he fear immediate death by it.
Call him in.
Serv.
They come.

Scoen. V.

Enter Horatio and guard.
Hor.

My masters, come along, and close up to me: my Loyaltie defend me, I shall not dare to trust me in this devillish fellows reach else. And thus it is Sir.

Petr.
'Tis thus Sir, I can tell you.
[drawes]
Hor.
Good friends look well to me.
Petr.
You come with strength of armed men, to bear me
[Page 11] From mine own House which was my appointed Pri­son,
Unto a stronger Hold.
Hor.
Look every way.
Petr.
The King it seems now that his Nignion
General is Landed, cannot think him safe, and I not
Faster: which though I can prevent, I will not.
Come, what Gaol will you remove me to?
Hor.
I would thou wert in Hell for me:
No Sir, I come to call you to the King.
Petr.
What? with a Guard?
Hor.
That's for my Self. I know thou lovest not me.
Petr.
Nor you me, do you?
Hor.
Nor cannot, less the King could love thee.
Petr.
Why perhaps he does, you see he sends for me.
Hor.

Why if he does, I do, but 'tis more then I know, or can collect yet by his Majesties affection.

Petr.
Here's an Humour now.
Hor.

I know my Loyalty, and I know the King has sent for you; But to what end I know not: and if it be to hang thee I cannot help it. Look to me now my masters. Nor do I care, that's the plain troth on't, while the King is pleas'd, and thou wert my Brother. I am an old Courtier I, still true to the Crown.

Petr.
I commend your Loyaltie: Come, we are Friends.
Hor.
Look to me for all that.
Petr.
Were you afraid, you came so arm'd and guarded?
Hor.
That's because I would not be afraid: look to me still.
Petr.
Indeed my Lord you are welcome.
Hor.
Yes, as much as I look for.
Petr.
VVhat should the King intend by this? I fear no ill,
For I have done none; therefore I may go.
Perhaps he thinks to make me honour Sforza
[Page 12] Now in his time of Jollitie, and be friends:
I need not go for that; he cannot do't,
Yet I will go to tell him so: my Lord,
My joy to see the King will post me faster
Than your grave Loyaltie, or Massie Bill-men.
Hor.
Yes, prethie keep afore with thy back to­wards me, and so long I dare trust thee.
Have an eye though.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scoen. VI.

Enter King and Flavello.
King.
Her Father hath surpriz'd her then?
Flav.
Yes, and means to hurry her away from
Court this night: I heard him threaten it.
King.

But he must not do't, she is too sweet Fla­vello, and too fit for my embraces, to be snatch'd away.

Flav.
Now that shee's ripe and ready for your use,
Like fruit that cryes, Come eat me. Ile not boast
The pains I took to fit her to your Appetite, before she saw you.
King.
How, my carefull Agent?
Flav.
At first sight of her Feature, I foresaw
She was compliable to your affection.
Then by discourse I found she was ambitious,
I ply'd her then with Pills that puff'd her up
To an high longing, till she saw the hopes
She had to grow by. Pray stand close, they come.
[Page 13] Enter Sforza and Alinda.
Sfor.
Has the air of Court infected you already?
Has the Kings kisses mov'd by adulterate heat,
Swoln you into astubborn loathsomness
Of wholsom Counsel? Come your wayes; Ile try
If Countrey-Air and Diet can restore you
To your forgotten modestie and Duty.
Alin.
VVhat have I done amiss?
Sfor.
Do you capitulate?
But so much satisfaction as may make
Thee sensible of shame, I will afford thee:
Didst thou not after Banquet, when the King
Heated with wine, and lust rais'd in his eyes,
Had kiss'd thee once, twice, thrice, though I look'd on,
And all the Presence whispered their cold fears
Of the Kings wantonness and the Queens abuse;
Didst thou not then still gaze upon his Face,
As thou hadst long'd for more? O impudence!
Alin.
Impudence? Sir, pray give it the right name,
Courtship, 'twas Courtship Sir, if I have learn'd
Any since I came here.
King.
Brave metal'd wench!
Sfor.
I am amaz'd.
Alin.
Besides Sir, the Kings kisses
Are great inestimable Honours, and
VVhat Lady would not think her self the more
Honour'd, by how much the King did kiss her?
Sfor.
And should he more then kiss, still more Honour'd?
Alin.
It might be thought so.
Sfor.
Durst thou argue thus?
Alin.
[Page 14]
I know he dares not beat me here. Pray Sir
Let me but ask you this, then use your pleasure:
(Cause you stile Impudence, that which I call Court­ship)
VVhat Courtier sits down satisfied with the first
Office or Honour is confer'd upon him?
If he does so, he leaves to be a Courtier.
And not the thing we treat of. Did your self
After the King had grac'd you once, twice, thrice,
(As he kiss'd me) expect no further from him?
Sfor.
She's wonderously well read in Court alreadie:
VVho i'th' Devils name has been her Lecturer?
Flav.
Do but your Majesty observe that, and think
VVhat pains I took with her.
Alin.
How many Offices
Did you run through before you were made General?
And as the more the King confers upon us,
Is more our Honour, so 'tis more the Kings,
VVhen most his Favours shine upon Desert.
King.
I like her better still.
Sfor.
Insufferable Bag­gage.!
Dar'st thou call any thing in thee Desert?
Or mention those base Favours which the King
Maintains his Lust by, with those real Honours
Confer'd on me, who have preserv'd his life?
Is it such Dignity to be a VVhore?
Alin.
Pray Sir, take heed: Kings Mistrisses must not
Be call'd so.
Sfor.
Dar'st thou talk thus to me?
Alin.
Yes, Sir;
If you dare think me worth the Kings embraces,
In that neer kind, howe 'er you please to stile it:
Sure I shall dare, and be allow'd to speak.
King.
That word makes thee a Queen.
Sfor.
The King dares not
Maintain it.
King.
And that costs you your Head.
Alin.
Dear Sir, take heed; Protest I dare not hear you:
[Page 15] Suppose I were advanc'd so far above you
To be your Queen, would you be therefore desperate,
And fall from what you are to nothing? Pray
Utter no more such words, I'd have you live.
Flav.
She vexes him handsomelie.
Sfor.
As I live she's mad. Do you dream of being a Queen?
Alind.
VVhy if I should, I hope that were no Treason:
Nor if I were a Queen, were that sufficient
VVarrant for you, to utter Treason by,
Because you were my Father; No dear Sir,
Let not your Passion be Master of your Tongue.
Sfor.
How she flies up with the conceit? d'yee hear?
Alind.
Because you were my Father.
Soveraignty you know, admits no Parentage.
Honour, poor petty Honour forgets Descent.
Let but a silly Daughter of a City
Become a Countesse, and note how squeamishly
She takes the wind of her Progenitors.
Sfor.
She has swallowed an Ambition
That will burst her: I'll let the humour forth.
Alin.
You will not kill your Child?
Sfor.
Though all Posterity should perish by it.
Alin.
Not for the Jewel in your Ear.
Sfor.
Impudent Harlot! she has heard me value
This Jewel, which I wear for her dead Mother,
I would not part with, whilst I wore my Head;
And now she threatens that: a Kingdom shall not save thy life.
Alin.
Know where you are, Sir, at Court, the Kings House.
Sfor.
Were it a Church, and this unhallowed Room
Sanctum Sanctorum, I will bring you to your knees,
And make me such a Recantation
[Page 16] As never follow'd Disobedience;
I'll take thy life else, and immediately.
King. Flav.
Treason! a Guard! Treason! &c.
Omn.
Heaven save the King.
Enter Capt. & Guard
King.
Lay hold on Sforza, the dangerous Traytor.
Sfor.
'Tis Sforza is betray'd.
King.
Away with him, see he be kept close Prisoner.
Flavello, see that his daughter have convenient Lodg­ing.
Sfor.
Let me but speak; I hope your Majesty—
King.
Let not a word come from him: hence, away.
VVhat a most dangerous estate even Kings do live in?
VVhen those that we do lodge so neer our Breast
Study our Death, when we expect our Rest.
Exeunt.

Scoen. VII.

Enter Lodovico and Eulalia.
Lod.
Be comforted good Queen, and I beseech
Your Grace to pardon me in this command
The King has laid upon me.
Eul.
Lodovico,
I do, and must no less submit my self
To the Kings soveraign will then you: and though
I am committed to your house and custody,
I am his Highness Prisoner: and more,
Though I know not my crime, unless it be
My due Obedience, I am still so far
From grudging at his pleasure, as I fear
To ask you what it is suppos'd to be;
But rather wait th' Event, which though it bring
My Death, 'tis welcom from my Lord and King.
Lod.
VVas ever Vertue more abus'd then hers?
Eul.
Yet thus much, good my Lord, vvithout of­fence;
[Page 17] Let me demand, Is Sforza still close Prisoner?
Lod.
Yes, and Petruccio his Adversarie
Governs his Place, and high in the Kings Favour.
Eul.
I will not ask his Trespass neither, it
Sufficeth it is the Kings high pleasure. But Alinda [...]
Sforza's fair Daughter, what becomes of her?
Poor vertuous Maid, is she thrown out of Favour
Because I lov'd her too?
Lod.
Alas good Queen!
Eul.
What do you weep? nay then all is not well
With her, I fear.
Lod.
Good Queen, I fear so too;
And that all ill proceeds from her to you.
Eul.
I may not understand thee, Lodovico:
I'll still retain the duty of a wife,
Which though it be rejected, shall not throw
Me from the path a Subject ought to go.
Lod.
Two such wives more might save a Nation.
But see Petruccio the now-powerful man, under tho King.
Eul.
Horatio with him too, are they such Friends?
Lod.
None greater since the King was pleas'd to grace Petruccio.

Scoen. VIII.

Enter Petruccio and Horatio.
Petr.

Madam, howe'er my Person, no less then my Authority, I know is most unwelcom to you; I must appear, and lay the Kings Command upon you, which you must obey.

Eul.
I must? see, Lodovico, here's a plain-
Dealing Lord, that knows, my Love and my
Obedience to the King, and warnes me
Faithfully to observe it: good my Lord,
I will obey the Kings Command in you:
Lay't on me. What must I do?
Petr.
[Page 18]
You must go to the Bar, to answer to
Those Accusations that will be brought
Against your Life and Honour, as touching
Your foul Disloyaltie unto the King.
Eul.
He is a Traytor to the King and Me,
That dares accuse me of Disloyaltie.
Patience assist me, and controul my Passion.
The greatest Crime that ever I committed
Against my Soveraign, was, To be so neer
The Vice of Anger in the presence of
One that he lov'd so well; but pray your Pardon,
Though truly those sharp-pointed words drew Blood
From my oppressed heart: and though you love me not,
I hope you think me innocent.
Petr.
Would I could.
Eul.
You do.
Petr.
I would I durst speak what I think.
Eul.
My Lord, you ever lov'd me, can you think?
Hor.
Come, what I think, I think; my love to you
Was the Kings love, if it were love at all:
If he will say, he ever lov'd you, I can say so too.
But to speak truth, I know not if I did,
Or I did not; but now you're hateful to me;
That I dare speak, because he hates you soundly.
And your old Russian Sforza, that fell Traytor,
That would have kill'd the King: do you look up at it?
You may look down with sorrow enough:
Your Country-man, your brave old Champion,
He has Champion'd you sweetly it seems.
Is there no honest VVoman?
Eul.
VVhat means this unknown Language?
Hor.
VVomen are alwayes ignorant of Reproof:
I'll tell you what it means, for that loves sake
You thought I lov'd you once. Or do you know
[Page 19] VVhat Mars and Venus meant, when injur'd Vulcan
Had e'm in's Net? Good King, how wert thou a­bus'd?
And this good honest, faithful, loyal Lord,
Full to the brim, of Merit, and true Valour,
By that Blade-brandishing Sforza, that meer Fencer▪
To this great Martialist: but he is fast enough,
And all's come out, howe'er you'l answer it.
Eul.
VVhat must I answer? I know not yet your meaning.
Hor.
Nor ever shall, for me.
Petr.
You'll know too much
I fear, anon. Come, Madam, vvill you go?
The High-Court stayes your coming.
Eul.
I must submit me to it, and its Laws;
But to a higher Judge refer my Cause.
Lod.
Good Queen, thy wrongs are manifest, though none
Must dare to utter them, but in our Mone.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scoen. IX.

Enter Alinda.
Alin.
Mount, mount, my thoughts, above the earthy
Of Vassal minds, whilst strength of womans wit (pitch
Props my Ambition up, and lifts my hope
Above the flight of Envy. Let the base
And abject mindes be pleas'd with servile Bondage▪
My Breast breeds not a thought that shall not flie
The lofty height of towring Majesty.
My power upon the weakness of the King
(Whose raging Dotage to obtain my Love,
Like a devouring flame, seeks to consume
[Page 20] All interposed Lets) hath laid a Ground-vvork
So sure upon those Ruines, that the power
Of Fate shall not controul, or stop my building
Up to the top of Soveraignty, vvhere I'll stand
And dare the VVorld to dis-commend my Act:
It shall but say, when I the Crown have won,
The vvork was harsh in doing, but well done.
Enter Flavello.
Flavello, welcom!
Flav.
Hail, my Soveraign Queen.
Alin.
'Tis a brave sound, and that vvhich my Soul thirsts for;
But do not mock mine Ears.
Flav.
Believe it Madam,
Joyn your attention but vvith one hours patience,
And you shall hear the gen'ral Voice o'th' Kingdom
Give you that stile, vvith large and loud allowance.
Alin.
Stile thy self happy then, in vvhat Reward
A Subject can receive, or a Queen give.
How moves our great proceedings?
Flav.
Fairly, thus:
Eulalia, for now I must no more
Give her the Title that belongs unto
Your Execellence, of Queen.
Alin.
Advance that Harmonie.
Flav.
Eulalia is brought unto the Bar, accus'd,
Convicted of that high offence, that instantlie
Shall pull that Judgement on her, that shall crush
Her into nothing.
Alin.
Appear the proofs manifest?
Flav.

That vvas my care, it behoov'd me to work the VVitnesses, vvho swore (in brief) most bravely, that they heard Lord Sforza, vvhom you also may forget now to call Father.

Alin.
That vvithout your instruction.
Flav.
They swore, I say, they heard that Sforza boast
The knovvledge of the Queen in carnal Lust.
Alin.
[Page 21]
VVas that enough?
Flav.
No, but it serv'd to put
The question to her, Was it true or not?
No, cries the Queen, nor can I think that Sforza
Would lay that scandal on himself and me.
Those Witnesses were two cashier'd Lieutenants
That Sforza should have hang'd for Mutinies
In the late war, but threw 'em by, it seems,
To serve him in this Office: me they cost
Five hundred Crowns apiece, and well they got it.
But where I left: the Queen denies their Oath.
And though it had been true that Sforza had
Affirm'd as much, that had not found her guilty.
Alin.
What Witnesses were next?
Flav.
Two dainty devils
Birds, a Doctor and a Midwife, who accus'd
Themselves for Bawds i'th' Action, and depos'd
I know not how many, how many, how many times,
They saw 'em link'd in their unlawful pleasures.
These were the Queens own people, and deserv'd
A thousand Crowns apiece, and had it instantly,
Afore-hand too.
Alin.
What could the Queen say then?
Flav.
She denied all, but in such a patient way,
After her foolish fashion, that it gave strength
To th' Evidence against her; then she wept
For their iniquity, and gave them a God forgive ye.
And so attends the censure of the Court,
VVhich straightway will be given: they'l be set
Before my coming.
Alin.
Hast, Flavello, hast,
And let thy next news be to this a Crown,
That she is not a Queen, and I am one.
Exit Flav.
This Father and this Queen I now could pity,
For being hew'd out and squar'd thus to my use,
But that they make those necessary steps
By which I must ascend to my Ambition.
[Page 22] They that will rise unto a supream Head,
Should not regard upon whose Necks they tread.

ACT. II.

Scoen. I.

[Loud Musick]
Enter four Lords, two Bishops, King, Prince: they sit; Eulalia in black, Crowned; a golden Wand in her hand, led between two Friers; she kneels to the King, he rejects her with his hand. Enter at the other door, a Doctor of Physick, a Mid­wife, two Souldiers; the King points them to the Bishops, they each deliver Papers, kiss the Bi­shops Books, and are dismiss'd. The Papers gi­ven to the King, He with his Finger menaces Eulalia, and sends her the Papers: she looks meek­ly. The Bishops take her Crown and Wand, give her a Wreath of Cypress, and a white Wand. All the Lords peruse the Papers. They shew various countenances: Some seem to applaud the King, some pity Eulalia. Musick ceases. King speaks.
King.
MY Lords and loyal Peers.
Lod.
A new distinction
Between Spiritual and Temporal.
Hor.
Good Lo­dovico, peace.
Kin.
This is a Cause, the which, but for fair Order,
By which I am constrain'd to be a Judge,
Would rather drive me to a mourning Closet
Then to this Seat; to shew my equal grief
Against the Crime and Shame of the Delinquent.
I see y'are all amaz'd, and cannot marveil
[Page 23] At your Astonishment, who do suffer with you
In the great Change Honour compels me to,
Together with Religion, fairly urging
To an high point of Justice, which to utter
Draws faintness from my words, chilling my Blood
Like the departing Breath that separates Life.
For such I held her, and so many yeers
Retain'd her in the Closet of my Heart,
Its self-Companion: that till these proofs,
VVhich now like daggers by compulsive wounds
Have made their passage, she could ne'er have parted.
Lod.
Royal Hypocrisie!
King.
The Proofs you see are plain,
That she was found—Pray speak it for me.
Hor.
In Adultery.
King.
And that she sought the Life of fair Alinda
By Sword and Poyson both: and of that Cup
'Tis like my self had tasted,
For my supposed love to that wrong'd Lady.
Lod.
You have given her the Bed-right that be­long'd to your wrong'd Queen, these twelve months.
King.
Our Laws of Sicilie are so well rebated
VVith Clemencie, and Mercie, that in this Case
They cut not Life from one of Royal Blood,
Onely take off (as is on her perform'd)
All Dignities, all Titles, all Possessions,
All means to live, even to her naked hands.
And such, Eulalia, now is your condition.
Lod.

To work for her living? if she were as young, and no honester then she for vvhose sake this is inflicted on her, she might find something else a­bout her, then naked hands, to help at a living shift-

King.
Now to this Censure, for due Orders sake,
And for vvhich end this Parliament vvas call'd;
Your Voyces are requir'd: do ye all approve it?
Omn.
VVe do.
Lod.
We must.
King.
VVhat say you, Lodovico?
Lod.
[Page 24]
VVe do; Heaven knows against my heart.
Eul.
My thanks unto you all, that do obey
So vvell vvith one consent your Soveraign Lord.
And sacred Sir, thus low, as it becomes me,
Let your poor Hand-maid beg, that you incline
A patient Ear to this my last Petition:
That as you cast me off, as an offence,
You will be pleas'd to think me not offended,
But pleas'd in all I suffer: for, Heaven knows,
I am as free from any Passion
Of Anger, Hate, Repining or Distaste,
Nay, as insensible of Grief or Sorrow,
Or whatsoever Anguish of the Minde,
As I was capable, for ought I know,
Of Joy or Bliss the first hour I was born.
Never made happy till I was your Bride,
In which blest state I cannot but remain,
While you are pleas'd, and I obey your will,
Though unto Death, to Banishment or Prison.
Poverty is Blessedness, in vvhich I'll pray
For pardon of the Sins of my Accusers,
And those that have suborn'd them.
Lod.
O poor Woman!
Eul.
So in the blest continuance of your Dayes,
I shall pray Heaven to smile on all your VVayes.
King.
Nay, stay Eulalia, I have yet a Business
I would have pass the general Consent
Of this Assemblie, in which your Voice is useful.
Flavello?
Exit Flavello.
Lod.
Upon my life, his Marriage with that Start-up,
That Snake this good Queen cocker'd in her Bosom,
Is not this Royal cruelty?
[Gonzago kneels to the Queen]
Eul.
You wrong your Princely Dignity:
Turn to the King your Father, kneel to him.
Gonz.
And are not you my Mother?
Eul.
[Page 25]
I must and can forget what I have been;
So must not you: your Mother was a Queen.
My present fortune claims no Title in you.
Hurt not your own, by looking down on me.
This I will do as warranted by safetie,
Not as a Mother, but Beadswoman, pray
For all that bliss on you a Mother may,
Good Sir, observe the King before his wrath.
Take hold upon you for regarding me.
[Loud Musick]

Scoen. II.

Enter Favello ushering Alinda like a Bride, two Virgins.
The King descends, takes her up: the Lords rise, all amazed.
King.
Let your amazement cease, and now per­ceive
My Lords in general, that I your King
Am Subject to this all-deserving Lady,
And do require you not alone to hear
What I can say, but without all denial
That you approve, confirm what I will say.
I am by law no less then your consent
Divorc'd, and free from all impediment
To make my second choice in Marriage,
And therefore crave Alinda for my wife,
And that immediately we solemnize
Our Marriage, and her Coronation.
I hope none rates our will or his own life
So meanly, as to give least contradiction.
Eul.
O let me lead your voyces. Long live
[Page 26] Gonzago and Alinda, King and Queen of Sicily.
Alin.
O gross Hyocrisie!
Eul.
My Lord the Prince, pray let your voyce be next;
The rest will follow. Why speak you not, my Lord?
Alin.
She would fain seem to voyce in your be­half,
But in a way that much perswades against you.
Do but your Highness note it.
Kin.
You Sir, come from that Woman.
Gonz.
She was my mother when she was your wife;
And that's so late, I cannot yet forget it.
But I fear to offend.
Eul.
O shew it in your Duty then, young Prince:
'Tis true, the Law of Nature-wills a Son
To be a partner in his Mothers woe;
But Laws above that lay a strong command
On Sons to obey the Edicts of their Fathers.
A Fathers frownes are Comets threatning ruine.
Let all your thoughts be free from his offence:
The most Heaven seeks, is our obedience.
In all obey the King; think not of me:
I am no more, nay not so much to you
As is the Begger whom you may relieve,
Since of all these comforts I am depos'd.
Lod.
Faith thou hadst not mine, good woman:
I must not call thee Queen now.
Eul.
Or if you needs will think I am your mother,
Let it be onely in the charge I give you,
That since Alinda bless'd by providence
Must be invested with the Regal Crown,
You shew her that obedience befits a Queen,
And your dread Fathers Wife.
Alin.
I fear shee'l turn him
Traytor, if he give more ear to her inchantments.
King.
Ile shew him a way to give her thanks.
Gonzago?
Gonz.
[Page 27]
My Royal and dread Father.
King.
Put forth that woman:
Do it without grudge, out of the Court,
I mean to seek her way. Do you refuse?
Eul.
He does not, shall not, Royal Sir.
Onely I beg that I may take my leave.
The wishes a true Subject ought to send
From the most humble heart up to the Throne
Of sacred Majesty, I equally divide
To you my King and Queen,
Professing by the Powers you present,
I part as well content with my condition,
Since it is your command, as ere I was to sit in that Promotion.
Alin.
Sir, I may not sit to be taunted and upbraid­ed thus.
Eul.
Pardon me, mighty Lady, I am as far
From daring to do so, as from a Queen.
And whilst you love the King, and he is pleas'd,
I shall no less obey you, then I lov'd you
VVhen I sent for you to the Court, and there into
this heart received you.
Alin.
I am plainly jeer'd: hence that woman.
King.
Away with her.
Exit Eulalia with Conzago.
And let it be proclaim'd according to th' extremitie of Law our Censure be observ'd.
Lod.
Alas, how can she live one night?
King.
And now to your consent: have I it yet
For Marriage with Alinda? If you are pleas'd,
Then call us King and Queen.
Omn.
Long live the King and Queen.
Lod.
I mean Eulalia
[aside]
King.
Tis well: on to the ceremonies then. Kings were
But common men, did not their Power get fear.

Scoen. III.

Enter presently again, Lodovico, Horatio.
Lod.

It is oppression, Tyrannie indeed.

Hor.

Speak lower, good my Lord.

Hor.

For fear of whom? of what?

Hor.

You would not that the King should hear you, would you?

Lod.
Faith if he did.—
Hor.

Faith then as sure as your tongue's your own now, your whole head would be his then.

Lod.
If it might so excuse the Queen, I car'd not.
Hor.

It will do the Queen as much good, as the money it might be sold for in the Market; That and the Appurtenances to it, would yield little at the Shambles. Come my Lord, speak privately, and pur­posely keep your head on your shoulders: it be­comes the place as well as 't had been made for it. If the King have a mind to turn away his Wife, Ile give him leave to turn mine after her, to wait upon her, rather than to have my head bowl'd at her, though I were sure it should kisse the Mistress.

Lod.

Oh but the ensuing danger, my Horatio! The mischiefes that of necessary course must follow, even to the ruine of the State, by the Kings dotage on his second choice, draws blood from Sub­ject hearts: Oh that lewd Woman!

Hor.

She is a Woman of middle earth yet. But what shall we dare to say two hours hence? Come, think upon Law and Regal Authoritie. The Kings Power Warrants his Acts: I know as well as you the Queen Eulalia (Heaven bless her, I hope 'tis yet no Treason to pray for her) is as vertuous a Lady as ever [Page 29] beautified a Court, or made a Kings Bed happy, For all the Articles fram'd against her.

Lod.
The perfect Pattern of Meekness, Patience, Obedience.
Hor.
Of all that's good, or should be wish'd in VVoman.
Lod.

So obsequious a lover of her Husband, that she gave way unto his loose affections, even to this now-she-start-up that supplants her.

Hor.

She consider'd she grows old: she reads in her Sons face nigh twenty years of the Kings love to her: and gives him leave to place it now elsewhere.

Lod.
And is so far from limiting his Choice,
That she possesses it that seeks her blood.
My soul tels me the witnesses against
The Queen, are by this Concubine suborn'd.
Hor.
I will not say so.
Lod.
You cannot chuse but think so.
Hor.

My thoughts are warranted by the Proverb. But come, make up your Face, temper your voyce and looks with the rest of the most Honourable As­sembly: shake off this discontent, 'tis a disease by which you'l perish else:now all the Court's in height; you to professe distaste! Come, be a looker on at least.

Lod.
Upon a Court on Fire? O Horatio,
Bright Burning Troy gave not a dearer cause
Of willingness to those affrighted souls
She forc'd to leave her sinking in her ashes,
To flie for refuge to another Region;
Nor in their flight could they by looks reverted,
See danger in more horrible aspect,
Than I upon the ruines of this Kingdom.
Hor.
Your stay, my Lord, may prevent danger.
Lod.
Yes, if it could remove the Fatal cause,
The pride, the crueltie, the Ambition
Of that wild Fury, the outragious Queen,
[Page 30] VVho treads and tramples down the Covernment.
Consider this Horatio, and the means
To work this great effect: and I am yours,
To stay till it be done.
Hor.
Alinda's Death.
VVho's there?
[Looks about]
Lod.
Is it not necessary? no body: what d' ye fear?
Or can you find how to preserve the State
At a less rate? you know too well the King,
How apt his Nature is to fell oppression.
The burden of whose crueltie long since,
If by the vertuous Clemencie of his Wife
It had not been alay'd and mitigated,
Had been a general subversion.
And now that Peerless Princesse being depos'd,
Whose vertue made her famous, and us happy;
And he re-married to this shame of women,
Whose vileness breeds her envie and our mischief,
What can we look for but destruction?
Hor.
I dare me thinks a little hear you now,
(The Court being surfeited too with wine and noise)
And could almost talk to the point it self,
To your own ear.
(Looks about him at every word.]
'Tis fit somewhat were done:
I cannot say what: but if the wronged Queen
Be not restor'd, we shew ingratitude,
How much, I may not say: enough to damn us.
Lod.
I, now you speak.
Hor.
And though I will not speak it: if the Strumpet:
Be not conveniently and speedily destroy'd,
Though death dance with us in the enterprize,
We shall seem born more for our selves than Coun­trey.
Lod.
Brave noble resolution!
Hor.
Nay more, now I will speak.
Lod.
This way, good Horatio.
Hor.
[Page 31]

That way, or any way; If Poyson, Sword,

Policy or Strength may do it—
Lod.

Speak lower, good Horatio: see the Mig­nion.

[Enter Flavello and divers Petitioners]
Hor.

What for him? my Ladies Game-keeper, that understands nothing but Monkeyes, Parrots, short-nos'd Dogs and Starlings; Master of her Ma­jesties Foisting-hounds.

Lod.

So, he hears you.

Hor.

Let him; he has no Soul to understand, nor Language to answer a Man: he knows how to dyet, disple and perfume the small Cattle he has charge of; for which rare Art, and catching Spiders for princi­pal Pug, he is rais'd prime man in his great Mistresses favour.

Lod.

How the Petitioners flock to him!

Hor.

Swarm rather, for they are Bees in his head; Oh! he engrosses all the Suits, and commends them to the White Hand, whose disposing will make the whole Kingdom black in Mourning, if Fate by us pre­vent not. See how he carries it! We might talk what we would, for him. His well-ordered head is so taken up with Particular Affaires, he mindes no General talk.

But my good Lord, ▪fore others Ears and Eyes,
Pursue we our Design as all were Spies:
You and the Common Good have won me.
Lod.

O I embrace you.

Exeunt.

Scoen. V.

Enter Andrea with a Box.
Andr.

Oh—Oh—and Oh-ho—O and alas! O and alack for O—O—O—that ever a true Neapolitan born, [Page 32] should live to see this day in Sicily! there O-again, [...] Queen—O me—what wilt thou do? O—O—what shall I do? O—thou maist work and starve; O—and I may beg and live: O—but from thee I cannot live: O—I cannot, nor I wonnot, so I wonnot.

[Enter Jago and Rugio.]
Jag.

See, here's poore Andrea mourning as well as we,

And all the rest of the poor Queens cast-awayes.

Rug.

But I can tell him comfort.

Andr.

Oh—I will hear no comfort.

Rug.

Yes, and be glad on't too.

Andr.

Is my Queen Countrey-woman call'd back again?

Rug.

No, but the Queen Alinda has enquired for thee, to entertain thee into her service, whilst we and all the rest of our late Queens servants are turn'd out o'th'Court, and now at this high dinner time too.

Andr.

She would eat me, would she not?

Jag.

That would make it a Feast indeed.

Andr.

But Ile not trust her on a fasting-night: Fools are meat then.

Rug.

Well said Andrea, witty in thy sorrow: I know thou wilt back again for a new Mistresse.

Andr.

No, no, take you your course, and serve her if you please,

I have play'd the Fool too long, to play the Knave now.

Ile after my old Mistresse.

Rug.

Thou maist not serve her: that will be brought within compass of Relief, and then thou maist be hang'd for her.

Andr.

If I be hang'd for doing good, pray let it not grieve you: and as I am an Innocent, Ile never grieve for you though you be hang'd never so justly.

Both.

We thank you good Andrea.

Andr.

Take you your swinge, let me take mine I pray.

[Flourish]
Jag.
[Page 33]

Hark, the King drinks now to his new Queen.

Andr.
So, having turn'd his old Wife out of door,
A man may drink and frolique with his who—
VVould have thought it? did you think to catch me?
Rug.

Not I Andrea.

Andr.

Catch me if you can: when it shall be Treason to say there is an honest woman, Ile say my Countrey-woman was justly condemn'd of Adultery: and till then, I know what to say: Catch me if ye can.

[Flourish]
Rug.

There again: now the Queen drinks.

Andr.

Poore woman, at what River?

Rug.

I mean the Queen Alinda.

Andr.

O the new thing at home here; I will not call her Queen, not I: my Countrey-woman is my Queen.

Jag.

Why is not she thy Countrey-woman?

Andr.
She was when she was Sforza's Daughter:
But she has turn'd a Father out of him.
Rug.

As here come some to turn us out o'th' Court.

Scoen. V.

Enter Horatio, Flavello, Guard, two or three Gentle­men.
Flav.

Away with them: out of the gates, away.

Hor.

See, here are more of them: more of that hated womans Retinue: away with all.

Rug.

Beseech you, good my Lord: I hope we are true men.

Hor.

As I am true to the Crown, not one of you pesters the Court a minute longer: go, you are trash and trumpery: and Ile sweep the Court of all of ye: follow your Mistresse: go.

Flav.
[Page 34]

The Fool my Lord shall stay: the Queen ask'd for him.

Exeunt Omn. praeter Andrea.
Hor.

Yes yes, the Fool my Lord, shall stay.

Andr.

The Fool my Lord will not stay.

Hor.

Will not? how dar'st thou say so? ha, Fool, ha?

[Seize and rifle his Pack.]
Andr.

The Fool dare say more than the wisest Lord dares do amongst ye: you will not take my own proper goods from me, will ye?

Hor.

See what he caries: I heard of Plate and Jewels lost to day.

Flav.

Let's see, Sir, I will see.

[Opens the Box: Coxcomb, Bable, Bells, and Coat.]
Hor.

Heyday, here's stuff indeed!

Andr.

Your VVardrope cannot matcht it: pray give me all again; or if you will be the Kings and Queens Takers with that extremitie to force my goods from me, then present this to his Highness, and this to Hers; and tell them, 'tis all the poor dis­carded Fool could spare them.

Flav.

No Sir, you shall take them with you, and a whip for advantage, unless you'l stay and serve the Queen.

Andr.
No Sir, to you with an excusee moy,
If you be your Queens Fool-taker, you may
In Countrey, Court and City quickly find
Fools upon Fools that I shall leave behind.
New Lords (you know the Proverb) make new Laws,
New Lawyers of an old make a new cause.
New workmen are delighted with new Tooles,
And her new Majesty must have new Fools.
New fools she wants, not having you about her,
VVhile the old Fool makes shift to live without her.
Fla.
Let the Fool go my Lord, 'tis but a Fool the less,
For he'll get wit by it, to wish himself here again.
Andr.

If I get but enough to keep me from Court, [Page 35] I care not.

Flav.

Farewell Fool, take your Trinkets with you.

Andr.

Farewell fine Lords, adieu old Courtier.

Hor.
The Court unclouded of this Factious crew,
VVill shine on us that to the Crown are true.
Exeunt.

Scoen. VI.

Enter Sforza and Keeper, as in Prison.
Sfor.
VVas ever man so hurried into thraldom,
And lock'd up in the ignorance of the cause,
Stronger and darker than his Prison walls?
But I must not be Sepulchr'd alive,
And therefore Keeper, though thy office be
More Devillish than thy visage, yet thy heart
May be humane: let me then conjure thee
To vent the secret forth but in a whisper;
Or shouldst thou utter't in a Tempests voyce,
As loud as are my injuries, thou art safe:
I can be here no carry-Tale: I am fast
In thine own custody, thou seest:
I pray thee tell me, what's laid unto my charge?
Keep.

All I can say, 'Tis the Kings pleasure, and you must obey.

Sfor.

Do you barke Sentences, Hell-hound?

Keep.

My Lord, y'are off your Command, and under mine,

You much mistake your self and me.

Sfor.

'Tis true.

Keep.
Lions may rage in toyles: but whilst they do,
They more enthral themselves: will you sit down,
And promise on your Honour not to force
My counsels from me? Ile deal fairly with you,
(My meaning is, to give him never a word)
Sfor.
[Page 36]
I will not lift a finger up against thee,
As I am a Souldier: now prithee tell me,
VVhat say they is my crime?
[shakes his head]
nay speak it freely.
I can give it hearing:
[shruggs, &c.]
Or tell me first if thou wilt, how fares the Queen?
VVhat? art thou dumb to that too? Answer me,
Is my Antagonist Petruccio
Repeal'd to Court yet? thence may spring my mischief.
VVhy dost not speak? this is dogged silence,
In scorn of me, to mock my misery.
I may not wrong the Honour of a Souldier
In my Revenge, or I would thrattle thee.
[he makes leggs.]
You're very civil, Hell take your courtesie.
Keep.
I pitie him: but must not dare to shew it.
It adds to some mens misery, not to know it.
Exit.
Sfor.
It is decreed of me, that I must suffer
This Barbarous crueltie; and Ile bravely bear it:
I ha' not force these double walls to part,
Or mollifie the Jaylors harder heart.
May spirit then assist me to despise
And bear my scorn above my injuries.

Scoen. VII.

Enter Petruccio and Guard.
Petr.
Revenge has cast her self into my hands,
Strangling the Life of Sforza in these Lines:
His Head is in this grasp, but where is Honour?
Must that forsake this Brest? must the pure heat
Of heavenly Honour, yeeld unto the scorch
Of Hell-bred base Revenge? it must not, cannot:
For as the Sun puts out all baser Fires,
[Page 37] Where Honour shines, thought of Revenge expires.
Besides, he is below my Anger now;
And has no Life but forfeited to Law,
Or the Kings Fury, I'll not question which;
Nor was it justlie, he gave me th' Affront,
In being made Lord General, when I stood for't.
But the Kings selfe, in his Election,
He wrong'd not me no more then I did him,
When th' Honour was transfer'd from him to me.
That's answer'd cleerly, I acquit thee, Sforza.
But now my Loyaltie, how shall I discharge
That special Duty I am here commanded,
(Stand back I say) to see the Execution,
And bring the Head of Sforza to the King?
What an addition here is of Advanceme [...]t?
To make me first a General, then a Hangman:
I'll do him better Service: Loyal Horatio
Would think himself now damn'd, to leave a tittle
Of the Kings powerful pleasure unfulfil'd.
Call the Keeper.
Keep.
Here my Lord.
[Enter Keeper]
Petr.
I am to see and speak with Sforza.
Keep.
Then I doubt not but your Honour has brought VVarrant.
Petr.
My Honour be your VVarrant: will not that serve?
Keep.
I will not lose the Kings Grace for all the
Honours in the Kingdom.
Petr.
Do'st know me, or my place?
Keep.

Yes, I both know and honour you, as far as my own place gives me leave: but in this I must crave pardon; you may not see him my Lord, by a less VVar­rant then the Kings own Signet, and that fetches him out, and it please you.

Petr.
But have you been so strict to all men else?
Has no man chang'd a vvord vvith him?
Keep.
Not since
[Page 38] These Keys commanded him, I can assure you,
Not even the Prince himself, who much desir'd it.
I look'd as black on him, as upon you now.
I am no white Prison-Keeper, I, to venture
Mine own Neck for a Prisoner's, at a price,
And give condemn'd men leave to run away:
No, I am the black Jaylor, I, and 'tis thought,
Lineally descended from Cerberus.
Petr.
I must commend thy Care; see, there's the Signet.
Keep.
I'll fetch the Prisoner.
May it please you to come forth, my Lord?
Sfor.
Have I then liv'd to hear Mans voice again?
Keep.
Here's the Lord Marshal, and chief Gene­ral
Of the Kings Forces, come to speak with you.
Sfor.
Those Titles once were mine, but now I must
Attend his pleasure that is Master of them.
Petr.
All leave the Room, but be at hand.
Guard.
VVe shall.
Exeunt Keeper and Guard.

Scoen. VIII.

Sfor.
My first object from my long obscurity,
The man that hates me most of all the world?
It is: his news cannot be good. not good?
The better: 'tis best to know the worst; he cannot deceive me.
Petr.
My Lord, I do presume I am unwelcom,
Because you are possess'd I never lov'd you:
Sfor.
The Court yields me such Complement; this has
No ampler Comforts in't. But y'are deceiv'd,
For you are welcom, sowre captious Lord, y'are welcom.
[Page 39] Because (love me or love me not) you speak.
I have been here these two and twenty dayes,
And never heard the voice of Man till now:
Meat I have found, and Lodging; but for Language,
In what part of the world I am, I know not.
Proceed; I value your words well, you see,
That give you six for one; why do you not speak?
I have been us'd to talk with men that love me not,
And more with Enemies, I dare besworn,
Then Friends: come, speak, I pray, what is't you come for?
Petr.
Alas! I pity him: his too too much vexation
Has over-tam'd him.
Sfor.
Will you not speak and tell me?
Petr.
Pray let me ask you first; Have you been kept
So strictly from the Speech of all men?
Sfor.
E'er since I was committed, and from the knowledge
Of vvhy I vvas committed too; nay, he that keeps me,
'Till now he call'd me forth, never spake a vvord:
If I ask'd him, what News? here he vvas vvith me:
Or when he heard from Cuurt? then there again:
Or, why I vvas committed? still the same answer.
So that I could inform my self of nothing.
Come, if thou bee'st an honest Enemy,
Tell me something:
As thou dost wish my throat cut, tell me something.
Petr.
You seem to take no notice of the cause of your commitment.
Sfor.
Further than this I cannot: 'Twas the Kings pleasure to command it.
Treason was cry'd; a Guard: away with him:
But for what cause, unless it were for drawing
My sword upon (O that Rebellions Girle!)
[Page 40] To save her from the danger of his lust,
(VVhich I tell you I was doubtful of) and so Sir,
Let me ask you, is she still about the Queen? (Queen.
My daughter Sir, I mean.
Petr.
Yes, much about the
Sfor.
And the Queen loves her?
Petr.
As dearly as her self.
Sfor.
Nay if you be a Souldier, now speak truely.
Petr.
The Queen and shee's all one.
Sfor.
Then there's some hope,
The King yet keepes fair quarter with her.
VVomen are quickly jealous.
Petr.
He knows no­thing,
I'm confident, of all these great proceedings.
Poor man! I pity him: but Ile put him to it.
VVill you now answer me as y' are a Souldier
To some few Articles?
Sfor.
You have engag'd me.
Petr.
'T were shame he should die ignorant of at least
The Accusations are laid against him.
Sfor.
Come Sir, your Articles?
Petr.
You are ac­cus'd
Of an intended Treason 'gainst the King.
Sfor.
Who's my Accuser?
Petr.
Even the King himself.
Sfor.
Umh, umh, umh: he should not be my Judge then.
It is some Devillish dream of his, or else
That Policie that Princes purchase Hell by,
With strong assurance without all exception;
That is, when Souldiers men of best desert
Have merited more then they have means to give,
To cut their lives by whom they onely live.
Petr.
You flie now from the question: y' are en­gag'd by the Honour of a Souldier
Unto that Accusation: guiltie or not guiltie?
Sfor.
I am not guiltie, as I am a Souldier;
And in that Oath I would not be forsworn,
[Page 41] To save as many lives, were they within me,
As perish'd by my Sword to save his One.
Petr.
In that I am satisfied: now to the next,
If you will hear it; you shall promise me
To answer without passion I or no.
Sfor.
I will do what I can.
Petr.
You're next accus'd
Of fowl Adulterie with the Queen Eulalia.
Sfor.
Hah!
Petr.
Guiltie or no?
Sfor.
No Sir, nor dares there be
Such a suggestion in the heart of Hell.
And were he there, that thought, or could but dream
Of such a Scandal, I'ld squeeze it out on's Brains.
Petr.
Then I must hold you to your promise Sir.
[Enter Guard.]
Sfor.
A wrestling towards; away west, away.
Nay then I am betray'd.
Petr.
Forbear I pray.
[Guard retire]
Sfor.
He comes but to insult and to torment me.
Petr.
My Lord you much forget, is not this Passion?
Sfor.
Passion of heart! he hopes not for Salvation
That hears with patience but the repetition
Of such a Blasphemie. I must not die,
Until the world be vindicated from
The redamnation such an error threatens.
Petr.
You see I could oppress you; but all forbear the roome.
Exit Guard.
Sfor.
Do you come to mad me?
Petr.
If you will be calm, Ile tell you what I come for.
Sfor.
As setled as a Rock beneath a mountain
Here will I sit, and hear thy loudest malice.
Petr.
If this man be not innocent, vertue lives not.
Sfor.
Now tell me what you come for; and be sure
You ask no more abominable questions,
VVhilst calmly I clear these, thus: By the Honour
And faith of a true Souldier, I am clear
[Page 42] Of these suggested crimes, which before Heaven
(Which knows my Innocencie) I do not urge
To save my life from the Kings violent Fury,
Nor any way to close with thee in Friendship,
Now that my fortune is at worst. So, speak:
'Tis long a coming: I begin to think
It is some good, you are so loath to utter 't.
Petr.
It is, if you can apprehend it so.
My Lord, I take you for my friend, and come
To make my moan to you; insomuch as now
I do conceive you Noble, Vertuous, Honest.
Sfor.
Foh! this is worse than all the rest, this stinks
Of the Court-putrefaction, Flatterie, grossly.
But on I prithee: talk is such a noveltie,
I will hear any thing.
Petr.
I could not see your vertue, when it shin'd
Thorow the radiant favours of the King:
It dazled me with envie then: but now,
Like the red Sun through cold and mystie va­pours,
I can behold it at the full.
Sfor.
So, so: umh, whu: so much for my vertues:
What's your business now?
Petr.
I say I come to make my moan to you,
Groaning beneath a weightie Injury
The King has thrown upon me.
Sfor.
Has denyed him
Something I warrant, that he would have begg'd;
The making of a Knight, or some such foolerie:
What was 't?
Petr.
In putting a base office on me.
Sfor.
Is the great Marshals and chief Generals
Office, become so base?
Petr.
No Sir, the Hangmans Office. Read that—
I am commanded there, and warranted
VVith present speed to bring your Head to him.
Sfor.
[Page 43]
A prayer or two, by his great leave and yours,
And you shall have it instantly.
Petr.
My Lord, you shall not undervalue't so:
That Honour which has won me to you, shall
Work better for your preservation.
I have much more to tell you, and strong Reasons
Why you should live: of the Queens infinite wrongs
And yours, wrought by your Daughters cruel Am­bition.
Sfor.
This is a nobleness beyond Example:
Sure now you are honest.
Petr.
There you see my strength:
If now for truth and Honours cause I strain
A point of Loyaltie, you will engage
Your Honour to secure me?
Sfor.
I hold my Honour equal to the best,
And prize it still so far above my life,
That to save Kingdoms Ile not forfeit it.
Here in the sight of Heaven I do engage it,
For your securitie.
Petr.
I ask no better. Keeper!
[Enter Keeper.]
Keep.
My Lord.
Petr.
Dismiss that Guard, and give us way.
Keep
I shall.
Petr.
Now come my Lord, vertue may be cast by;
But never overcome by Tyrannie.
Sfor.
VVars Sword, Laws Axe, or Tyrannies fell Knife,
May overcome my Person, not my life.
For that is yours Petruccio.
Exeunt Ambo.

ACT. III.

Scoen. I.

Enter Enlalia.
Eul.
TUrn'd out of all, and cast into the world;
And that forbidden too to pitie me?
No sucour, no relief to be afforded?
Heaven still is where it was, and cannot lose
The Providence it ever had: let those
That think me wretched now, consider that,
And be with me converted to a Faith
That will proclaim us happy. What's my loss?
VVhat was the State and glory of a Court,
But steps and lights through dangerous Ambition,
To ends beyond our selves, in whose atchievements,
VVe make our selves but nothing to ourselves.
And all that we are then, is to the world,
VVhich renders us great Titles: which tane off,
VVe then return unto our selves again,
And all the world is ours: I was not great
Till now; nor could I confidently say
Any thing was mine own, till I had nothing.
They do but sleep, that live in highest Pompe;
And all their happiness is but a dream,
VVhen mine is reall: nay, nay, I can prove it.
Their costly fare breeds riot, mine content:
Their rich Attire is but mere Pageantry,
Made to please their eyes: mine keeps me warm,
And healthful, when a cold becomes their sickness.
They boast of Honour and Gentilitie,
For their Attendants then, when the chief Honour
Of the best woman, meek obedience,
Is my own handmaid; and my Patience
[Page 45] A sweeter servant than Gentilitie,
Continually my other: for Councel and defence, what have I now?
They have the helps of worldly wise mens brains,
And I the comforts of my fruitfull Prayers.
They have tall big-bon'd servants for defence:
I the strongst guard of all, mine innocence.
[Birds chirp.]
What Musick had the Court compar'd to this,
Or what comparison can all their sports
And Revells hold with those of Kids and Fawnes,
And frisking Lambs upon the countrey lawnes?
VVhich are my hourly pleasant entertainments
In all my wanderings: in which I have not
Hunger'd at any time, but I have found
Meat which I duely earn'd: nor ever thirsted,
But I have found a Spring that has refresh'd me.
And am no sooner weary, then I finde
A shelter or a shade to rest me in:
As now, in which a slumber 'gins to creep
Over mine Eyes, more soft then any sleep,
Could these my Senses when I lay of late
On Down, beneath the Canopy of State.
[falls asleep]

Scoen. II.

Enter Genius.
Sleep in thy Sainted Innocence,
Whilst Angels watch in thy defence.
Sleep whilst I charm these bubling Streams
With Musick, to make sweet thy Dreams;
Thy Dreams which truly shall relate
The Passages of thy Estate.
[Page 46] Dumb shew. Enter Alinda, Flavello, two Lieute­nants, Doctor, Midwife. Exeunt Lieutenants, Doctor, Midwife. Enter Sforza at the other end raging, and the Jaylor, with mute action. Enter King, Petruccio: Alinda whispers the King: he gives a Warrant and Signet to Petruccio: Exit Petruccio. King. kisses Alinda, graces Flavello. Exeunt. All this as the Genius speaks.
Note, first thy Foes in Court conspire
Against thy Life, and Villains hire
To act thy Tragedy.
Loe those the perjur'd Evidence
That suggested thine offence,
Are hir'd the second time to be
Co-actors in thy Tragedie.
They have their Fee, and now are sent
Towards thee with a vile intent.
Ill thrive their purposes. Now note
The wrongs that are 'gainst Sforza wrought,
Who lives from Speech of all men still,
Pent by the Kings abused will;
Not knowing of the Treacherie
That was conspir'd 'gainst him and thee.
Nothing of all that's past knows he,
More then he must a Prisoner be;
Which doth him much impatience bring:
But the bad Queen instructs the King
How his vexation he may end,
Who strictly for his Head doth send.
What from these black intents shall grow,
Is not as yet for thee know.
Now, holy Soul, I must thee set
A course that must thy living get.
[Page 47] Thou must not beg, nor take for need
More then thy Merits proper meed.
First therefore, I thy Brain inspire
With a Divine Prophetick Fire;
Thou shalt be able to Fore-doom
The ends of many things to come.
Into thy Breast I next infuse
The Skill of Med'cine how to use:
Learn'd Aesculapius never knew
The use of Simples more then you.
Many diseas'd by Grief and Pain,
Of thee shall Health and Strength obtain.
Next Handy-Works and Literature,
With Education good and pure,
Thou shalt be able to bestow
Upon the Country's Youth, and show
The Elder sort how to improve
Their Wealths by Neighbour-hood and Love:
Now when thou from this Trance dost wake,
See that thou present Practice make
Of these thy Gifts, and fear not then
The Practices of Fiends or Men.
Exit Genius.
Eul.
What soft? what sweet? what heavenly Trance was this?
I feel my self inspir'd with holy Flame
Above the heat of Mortals: sure I have
The Spirit of Prophecie, the Gift of Healing,
And Art of teaching hidden Mysteries.
Thanks Heaven, that first didst send me Patience
To sweeten my Afflictions, and now
Plentiful means to live, for others Good.
Who live but for themselves, are but for show,
And stand like barren Trees, where good might grow.

Scoen. III.

Enter to her, Lodovico and Andrea.
Lod.
Farewel, thou foolish Pomp, and Pride of Court,
Whose shine is but an Ignis fatuus
That leads fond Mortals from the path of Vertue,
And Tracts of real Comforts: thus I shake
Thy wanton Dust from off my Feet, to tread
The wayes of Truth and Innocence: this Air
Breaths Health upon me, Peace, and perfect Pleasure.
VVhere the swoln Courts sophisticated Breath
Did but disease my Blood, and taint my Senses.
Eul.
It is good Lodovico, though disguis'd,
I can no less then know him: and the poor Fool
That was my Servant: they come to relieve me
In these disguises, that I might not know
From whom I receiv'd Comfort.
Lod.
To this way
The most unfortunate Queen enclin'd her course:
And see, already, how her VVants and VVoes
Have worne her to the bone: Alas, she's pin'd!
Andr.
And look you new Master, yonder's my old Mistress;
VVhat Fools were we; that could not find her sooner!
Alas! I can see through her: there is not
So thin a Queen in the Cards.
Lod.
Hold thee, good Woman, pray thee take it quickly.
I came now from a Feast where we had plenty,
And brought these Dainties, meant unto another;
But my dear Charity tells me thou dost want it.
I pray thee eat it; do not look, but eat it.
Eul.
What Traytor art thou, that presents me Poy­son?
Lod.
[Page 49]
By all the truth and honesty in Man,
'Tis wholesome Food: see, I will be thy Taster,
Though in good sooth, it grievs mee to beguile thee
Of the least Morsel: sure thou hast need of 't▪
Good VVoman eat, and let not Famine be
Fearful of Poyson, or false Treacherie.
Eul.
Is it not Poyson to a loyal heart,
To eat contrary to the Kings Command?
Andr.

No, if it were, what a many would have been poyson'd the last Lent, that may live to be very good Subjects, very good Subjects all the yeer after, except a few Fish-Dayes?

Lod.

'Las, we are plain poor Country Folke, and hear no such news.

Eul.
VVhy will ye urge so much against your con­science?
Have you not heard of my banishment, and the Kings Edict,
Proclaiming all men Traytors that relieve me?
Lod.

VVe heard indeed the King had put away his old good VVife, and tane a new one: but can we think you are she that was the Queen?

Eul.
Yes good Dissembler, you do know't, and you;
As sure as I know you for Lodovico,
And you, Sir, for Andrea: Can it be,
That you that have been loyal Subjects, should
Now go about to forfeit thus your Lives?
Andr.
Pray leave this fooling, Mistriss: eat your meat;
And here's good Drink to wash it down: and then
If you have a minde to hang us, let the
Gallows take his due; for my own part, I had
Rather hang like a man, while I am good
For something, then you should pine away to no­thing.
Eul.
[Page 50]
Fear not you me, pray Sir, nor neglect the care
That's due unto your selves, to injure me.
Lod.
O dearest Heaven! do you think we'ld injure you,
That venture lives for you? no, gentle Queen.
Andr.
Lo, there again, that's Treason too, to call her Queen.
Lod.
No body hears nor sees; pray eat a little.
Eul.
Do not I hear and see you? I am not safe
In my obedience unto the King,
To hold such conference with you that would
So violate his Laws: but let it warn ye
Off of this course; for I'll appeal to Justice
If you persist in this Rebellion.
Andr.

Any woman but she, now in her Case, would eat such an Husbands Brains without Butter, rather then forsake good meat; and but for this wil­fulness in her, I should not think her a woman, I. But as she is, new Master, we shall never do good upon her: and therefore since your Grace has not the grace to eat this meat, mark with what a grace or without Grace, I will eat it my self: do you fear Poyson?

[Eats]

Now Bottle let me play a part with thee; can you think this Poyson, that goes down so merrily?

[Drinkes]
Eul.
Much good may it do thee.
Lod.
Stay, now perhaps she'l eat.
Andr.

'Tis like enough; I did but eat to get her an Appetite, therefore I'll e'en eat on, till all be done, to get her the better stomack: now Bottle, to thee again.

Eul.
See, here come poor Folks, that perhaps do want
That which superfluously thou hast devour'd.
Andr.

I'll eat again, for that: I am as poor as [Page 51] they; and you never knew Charity in Beggers towards one another. Bottle again for that.

Scoen. IV.

Enter to them, Pedro, Poggio and Lollio.
Pedr.
O Misery! O Desolation!
Pogg. Loll.
Diseases, Sicknesses, O Calamity!
Andr.
What Saints are those that they invoke so?
Eul.
What is the Cause of these sad Cries, good People?
Pedr.
Go back, if you respect your safety, go;
And look not this way where the Air disperseth
Nothing but foul Infection, Pain and Sorrow.
Return, I say, for here you appear strangers,
And run not to the Ruine of your selves:
This way is fil'd with Cries: you can meet nothing
But Lamentations of a thousand Souls:
Some Lame, some Blind, some Deaf, some Lunatick,
Some struck with Palsie, some with Leprosie;
All sighing, groaning, crying, underneath
The painful weight of Sorrow and Affliction.
Eul.
What is that woful part o'th' Country call'd,
That suffers this Calamitie? and how
Did the Inhabitants there stand affected
To Goodness or Religion?
Pedr.
We are all sinful▪
Yet no way to extenuate our fault,
Or murmure at the Judgement faln upon us;
We have been held obedient to the Church,
True Subjects to the King, and friendliest Neigh­bours
Among our selves, all Sicily could boast of:
This part of it, or Province, being call'd,
[Page 52] The fair Talermian Fields, and is the same
Our Kings have customarily laid out
For their Queens Dowry: and has therefore been
Vulgarly call'd The Paradice of Love.
Andr.
Stay there, old man: I have heard there is
Neither Lawyer nor Physician in all the Province.
Lod.
None could e'er get a living amongst 'um in all their Practise.
It seems they liv'd then civilly and temperately.
Andr.
Nor Gentleman nor Begger in their Con­fines.
Lod.
Then sure their Wealth was all communi­cable.
There could not but be excellent Neighbour-hood.
Andr.
And, which was worth all the rest, their Priests
Were ever the best good-Fellows in all the Country.
Pedr.
Y'are now upon the Confines of that Coun­try,
And cannot scape some dangerous ill,
If you dare tast the Aire of it.
Andr.
That shall be try'd; I'll have a whiff on't:
If I get a mischief by it, let the Fools harm be a war­ning to the VVise.
Pedr.
See more of those distressed Souls that flie
The foul Contagion,
[Enter four Others. Exit Andr.]
Yet charitable to each others wants:
For here the Deaf conducts the Blind: the Blind
Supports the Lame: the Dumb removes the sick and feeble.
All that can make least shift for't, flie the Place,
Then do not you press torward it.
Eul.
There will I.
Take up my Habitation.
Lod.
Y'are not desperate?
Eul.
Mark me, good Lodovico, note my Reasons:
This poor afflicted Province was my Dowry:
And the o'er-hasty judging world will say,
According to the Censure pass'd on me,
[Page 53] My Trespass drew this Evil on the Land.
Lod.
Tis better that the world should judge so, and perish
For it in it's Ignorance, then you so wilfully
Be cast away: you hear that none escape.
Pedr.
None, Old nor Young, Man, Woman Child, all
In one kinde or other, do feel Affliction.
Eul.
Do any die?
Pedr.
None, though the most do wish
They might, in lieu of their sad sufferings.
Eul.
And whither now do you intend your travail with your griefs?
Pedr.
VVe hope a better Air will cure us. But
VVe are advis'd by our Divines and Augurs,
By the best means we can, to make our Journey
Towards the Court, to send our sad complaint
Unto the King.
(Eul.
Hear now what he will say)
Pedr.
They find by Divination, that this punish­ment
Is falne upon this Province by the Sin
Of the Adulterous Queen, whose Dowrie 'twas.
Eul.
Did not I tell you?
Pedr.
And that until
His justice take away Her loathed life,
This evil will not cease.
Lod.
What, the Queen Eulalia's life?
Pedr.
Yes Sir; we hear shee's banish'd, and forbid relief:
But nothing save her polluted blood must quench this flame,
In expiation of her Sin and shame.
Lod.
Dare you stay longer here? pray let us flie.
Eul.
Why then you think me guiltie, Lodovico.
Lod.
I know not what to think, but that I will not.
Eul.
Was that your Priests opinion and advice?
Pedr.
Yes, and thus grounded, that our pains began
Just at the hour, the Kings Indulgencie
Releas'd her forfeit Life.
Eul.
[Page 54]
'Twas everso; Priests are but Apes to Kings,
And prostitute Religion to their ends.

Might you not judge as well, it was th' injustice and the wrongs the innocent Queen hath suffer'd, that has brought sense of her injuries upon her Pro­vince? And that if she had died, her Dowrie here with her had also suffered Death? to make it nothing to the King, as he made her.

Lod.
I, mark ye that: and that your false surmise
Against the Queen has brought this evil on you.
Pedr.

O now my pain increases. 1. O mine Eyes. 2. My Brain. 3. My Bones. 4. My limbs are on the Rack.

Lod.

'Tis plain, your fowl mistrust is the infection that rages in you.

Eul.
Lodovico, peace: where is thy pain good man?
Pedr.

Here in this Arm shrunk up as it were sear'd with fiery Irons.

Eul.

Bless'd Providence assist me whilst with Prayers I use the gift thou gav'st me for the cure of these afflicted People. Give me thine hand: what feelst thou now?

Pedr.
A precious cooling Balm that has extin­guished
The scorching heat I felt, and has reduc'd
My Flesh, my Sinews, and my Arteries,
Into their natural temper and true use.
Eul.

Joyn that hand to thy other, and thank Hea­ven then

That made thee whole.
Pedr.
I do, I do.
Lod.
Mira­culous!
Pedr.
O sure you are some Heavenly Saint or Goddess.
Eul.
Beware Idolatry, and onely send
All praise to th' power whose mercy hath no end.
Onely do this for me: inform the rest
How you have sped, and win them back again,
To the next village: bid them be of chear,
Whilst I make Holy Prayers for their help.
[Page 55] Ile come and live among you for my hire,
Which shall be cheap, believe me.
Pedr.
All we have
VVill be too slight reward: first take my store.
Eul.
I will but take my next competent meal.
I hope this will be thought but valuable.
Pedr.
I pray take more.
Eul.
Go back I say with your sad company,
And comfort them with news of your success,
And a full hope of cure to every one
That's Partner in this sad Affliction.
Pedr.
With happy feet I shall spread it through the Countrey.
Exeunt omnes Rustici.
Lod.
O happy woman, now no more a Queen,
But Holy Saint: I see how Providence
Means to advance thy injur'd innocence.
Ile dwell here now my self, and without fear:
For perfect health I think dwells only where
Good Eulalia remains: I have enough
To buy a Farm for me and poor Andrea.
But what's become of him?
Eul.
Ile tell you, Lodovico: the poor Fellow
Is gone to taste the Countrey Air for me,
Lest I might be infected: you shall see
Straight how he speeds.
Lod.
And that was honest love.
Enter Andrea.
Andr.
A Surgeon, a Surgeon! Oh a Surgeon!
Eul,
How now, Andrea?
Andr.

A Surgeon: Oh twentie Surgeons, bone­setting Surgeons.

Eul.

What's the matter man?

Andr.

I am out of joynt. Ile taste no more of such contagious Aires, To save as many Queens as I have hairs. Oh Surgeons and Bone-setters, Bone-setters and Surgeons, all my Bones, all my Bones for a penny.

I have not a finger nor a toe in joynt: my Leggs,
my Thighs, my Arms, my neck.
My back and Crupperbone is out of joynt.
[Page 56] Oh for a Sowgelder, a Surgeon I would say.
Out a joynt, out a joynt, I am all out a joynt.
Eul.
Thy tongue's not out a joynt.
Andr.
No, nor a Thing
I have that has no Bone in't: All else is out a joynt.
Eul.
This came of tempting Providence: were not you
Told the danger by the many that smarted of it?
Andr.
I met them all dancing and frisking home.
The blind man made the way: the dumb man sung,
The deaf kept time to his Notes: the lame led on
The Dance to all the rest: whilst I can go
No further.
[lies down]
'Twas for you I ventured.
Eul.

And now you repent you meant me so much good.

Andr.

And now again I do repent that ever I did repent. Oh for a Stone-cutter, a Bone-setter I would say.

Eul.
VVell Sir, give me your hands: stand up.
Andr.
VVith as good a will as ever I stood to wo­man.
Eul.
Now, how do you feel your self?
Andr.
In very pretty plight, I feel I am sufficient.

Haugh, heigh—

[Capers and turns]

'twill do again: and if I durst venture into that unluckie Countrey again, I would now teach the Clowns how to Dance for joy.

Eul.
Yes you shall venter Sir; and by the way,
Ile teach you to teach them to work and pray.
Andr.
To work and play I pray you,
Lod.
If there be Heaven on earth, it is this woman.
Andr.
Then if there be a Purgatorie on earth,
Ile venter through it for her, heigh, o, ho.

Scoen. V.

Enter three or four Countrey-men.
1. Health and Joy: Health and Joy.
2. O happy woman that ever she came hither!
1. Nay happy we that ere she came among us.
2. VVhat shall we render her in recompence?
All that we have is too little for this woman,
This good woman, this holy woman, this she-Saint,
If there be one above ground.
3. O do not make an If at her, neighbour, lest the ground swallow thee quick in thy Infidelitie.
2. Now doubtless, and without all adventure, she is an unknown woman.
3. And therefore a good woman: for 'tis too true,
All those that are well known are e'en bad enough:
And known she will not be for all our entreats,
No not so much as from whence she came, we see.
2. And that counsel she may keep still for me:
For doubtless, and without all peradventure
If we had need of another such, 'it were in yain to seek her.
1. Sure 'twas from Heaven she came,
Where the whole stock of good women vvere plac'd long ago.

Scoen. VI.

Enter Fabio and Strozza.
Fab.
'Tis she I'm confident.
Stroz.
Our work lies fairly then before us.
Lod.
[Page 58]
These look like mischievous Robbers.
Eul.
What can they take from us?
Lod.
Your Life, I fear.
Andr.

I have e'en din'd, let 'em take away when they please.

Lod.
Their looks are murderous.
Eul.

Fear not, Lodovico: why look ye Friends, so amazedly? ha'ye lost your way? or what do ye seek?

Fab.

No, we ha' found our way, 'tis to you we seek: we dare come roundly to you, for all your

Guard, your old Fool, and your young here.
Lod.
O my unhappy Fears!
Eul.
You will not murder me?
Fab.
'Tis all the Office we are bound to doe you.
Eul.
Just Heaven protect me.
Fab.
Call upon Heaven as you go thitherward:
VVe may not stay long Invocations.
Andr.

Pray take me in your way, and run me through her, if you be honest Murderers. Help: Murder, Murder!

Scoen. VII.

Enter to them, Curate, Crier, Pedro, Lollio, Poggio.
Crier.

O yes! O yes! O yes!

Cur.
Silence Crier, suspend the Proclamation, to preventa bomina­tion.
Lod.
Heaven has sent us ayd.
Fab.
O we are prevented!
Cur.

On, on; sa, sa; down with their VVeapons, up with their heels, till we insect and rip up the in­trails of the Cause: what an Assassinate was here at­tempted? [Page 59] O infausta D [...]es! two swords against the naked vvomb of a VVoman! and none but weapon­less men to assist her!

viz.
Senex & Ineptus.
Andr.

That is to say, Give me their Swords un­der my Fools Coat, I'll hurt no body.

Cur.

Upon my facundity, an elegant construction by the Fool. So, I am cedunt arma Togae.

Fab.

For our attempt Sir, we vvill answer it: vve are for the King.

Car.
Then vve are for the King, Sir; & in nomine
Majestatis, we command you to attend our present
Office, and then we will examine yours.
Loll.

And then if you deserve the Gallows, you shall be sure on't: a short breathing-vvhile shall be no hinderance to you. So Crier lift up your Voice, and proceed.

Crier.

O yes, O yes, O yes: By the Kings most Excellent Majesty, a Proclamation, prohibiting upon pain of Death, any Relief to be given unto the ba­nish'd Eulalia.

Cur.
Now say, VVhereas upon just and lawful Tryal.
Crier.
VVhereas, &c.
Cur.
The said Eulalia.
Crier.
The said Eulalia.
Eul.

I am that hapless she, that for relief will not beg, nor borrow, nor take of yee.

[Lod. & Cur. aside.]
Pedr.

'Tis she, and at the price of Life I vvill re­lieve her.

[aside]
Pog.

How? vvhat have vve done? In relieving her from killing, we are all become Traytors.

Loll.
That's an idle fear: vve knew her not,
VVhich now vve do, vve may again reliver her
Into their hands, for them to kill her yet:
And then there's no harm done.
Pog.
So let us give them their swords again; and
vvhen they have done their vvork, to make all sure,
[Page 60] vve'll hang them for their pains, and so keep the Law
in our own hands vvhile vve have it.
Cur.
O homines insani! quomodo erravistis?
The woman must be sav'd á manubus istis.
They are Catilinarian Traytors.
Lod.
You Sir, have reason; you have found her Life
The King has pardon'd: and although her Doom
In this her Banishment were heavy, and
A punishment even unto Death, but that
Good soul she works and labours for her food,
You find not yet 'tis lawful any kill her.
Cur.
Recte dixisti Domine: therefore Sir,
You that are for the King, as you pretend,
Shew us th' Imperative mood or warrant for her death,
Or we shall put you into the Optativa mood,
By punishment to wish your selves dead oftner
Or more times than bona fide there be Tenses
In all the Moods of all my Accidences.
Eul.
For my part Ile forgive them, if they will
Deliver truely who corrupted them,
To rid the world of this weary burden; that I may pray for them.
Pedr.
Can such a goodness deserve so fowl a Cen­sure?
Eul.

But first tell me: Are not you two the men that gave false evidence at my Arraignment touch­ing injur'd Sforza?

Fab.
We gave no evidence, nor false nor true.
Andr.

No countrey-woman, they had no such Beards. But I will try if I can make'm like'em: O rare! what a nimble Barber am I? Lod. They are the self-same men, the two cashier'd Lieutenants that Sforza should have hang'd for mutinies in the late Wars.

Pedr.
What hinders now their execution?
Cur.
[Page 61]
Digito compesce labellum: silence good Pedro.
I do commend your zeal: but Periculum est in via,
We will walk safely: for this time therefore wee'l do onely thus,
Double our guards upon 'em, and away to prison with them,
Est locus in carcere quod Tullianum appellatur.
We will presume to know who 'twas that set you awork, before you go,
Ambo.
You will be made to answer it.
Cur.

A word more, wee'l hang you presently, and answer that too: Abite hinc in malam Rem: away with 'm.

Loll.
Ah Rogues, wee'l hamper ye.
Pogg.
Kill a woman 'cause she was a Queen?
Loll.

Wee'l hamper ye, and halter ye, and do ye hear? hang ye.

Exeunt Lollio and Poggio, with Fabio and Strozza.
Andr.
Abi hinc & malam rem, away with'm.
[Lodovico, Eulalia. Petro aside]
Cur.
As I am Erudite, idoneus Adolescens,
A very towardly Juvenis. Cupis at (que) doceri?
Andr.
What's that?
Cur.
Wilt thou be a Scholar?
Andr.
After you is manners.
Cur.
Now by mine intellect, discreetly spoken.
Be but my Pupil, I will make thee one,
And dip thy Caput in pure Helicon.
Andr.
Pray what's my Caput? and what's your Helicon?
Cur.
Still a desire to learn: this is no Fool.
And by the company hee's in, I do suspect,
Simile non est Idem: hee's too wise,
To be the thing he seems but in disguise:
Some Lord of Court, his outside non obstante.
Lod.
It is confess'd Sir, I am Lodovico,
Somtimes a Lord of Court when this was Queen.
Cur.
[Page 62]
O Oedipus! I meant this Juvenal.
Andr.
No truely Sir, your Simile non est Idem.
I am no Lord, what ere you like me to.
What I may pass for in the Country I know not,
At Court I was a Fool when she was Queen.
Lod.
VVe dare not call her Queen now: but while we
Relieve her not, though we associate her,
VVe are the Kings true Subjects: and with your leave,
Disclaiming of all Honourable Titles,
VVe'll live amongst ye.
Pedr.
O gracious woman, so I may safely call you,
VVho once preserv'd my life.
Eul.
Mention not that.
Pedr.
I ought not to conceal it: therefore know
That some years past being imploy'd to Court
To render the Kings Rents for this Province:
VVhich though I duely did, there was a Lord,
A strange officious one, that charg'd me deeply,
And all our Province, with detested breach
Of our Allegiance: at which my rage
Banish'd my reason, and confounded so
My senses, that without respect of Person,
Or Place, which was the Danger of the Law,
I struck him there in Court: and was adjudg'd
To suffer death for't, till you won my Pardon.
Lod.
VVere you that man?
Andr.
And 'twas my
Cozen Lord'I warrant that you box'd.
Pedr.

'Tis he that braggs so much his truth unto the Crown; I need not name him.

Cur.

Sed nunc quid sequitur? Pray mark the issue of this Court quarrell. By the way,'tis well you have renounc'd all qualitie of Court.

Here were no living for you else; for know,
Since this mans trouble, not a Gentleman,
Much less a Courtier dares breath amongst us,
[Page 63] But be as you pretend and write, but Yeoman:
You shall live Jovially with us and welcome,
At your own charge, your own Viaticum.
[Enter Lollio and Poggio.]
Loll.
We have laid up
The murderous minded men in dungeon deep,
Clogg'd them with Ploughchains, Fetters and Horse­locks.
Pog.
VVe'l teach 'm to kill Queens:
Cur.
Cave, caveto.
Lol.
VVe mean this woman, this discarded Queen.
Exeunt Omnes.

Scoen. VIII.

Enter Alinda and Flavello.
Alind.
For all the Feasts, the Triumphs and the Glories
That have been spent, at price of great Estates,
In celebration of my high Advancement;
For all the King has in his present being,
His Love to boot, assur'd in highest measure;
Me-thinks there is yet wanting an Addition
To crown my Happiness: all's not safe hereafter;
I cannot safely say I am his Wife,
While th'other seems contented with a Life. Flavello!
Flav.
Most Mighty Soveraign.
Alind.
O most Coelestial sound!
Here's all your business granted.
Flav.
Greatest and best of Queens! All?
Alind.
See the Kings hand to all: do you mistrust me?
Flav.
I onely look for the poor womans Pardon
That kill'd her Husband for his gelding the Priest.
Alind.
[Page 64]

If you but manage the Profits of my Fa­vours with a discreet Hand now, you may soon finde the difference between a Mignion, and the Son of a Dish-Maker.

Flav.
I finde it in your Gifts, my bounteous God­dess.
Alind.
Oh Divine!
Flav.
And would presume that
I my self were worthy
A place i'th' Kalendar, might I do you Service,
That merited the smallest of your Graces.
Alind.
Do you know the village where that woman lives?
Flav.
Who, sacred Deitie?
Alind.
I'm very sick to name her or her Son.
Flav.

O Eulalia; yes, the very House: 'tis in your Majesties way now, as you pass to Nicosia: the King is ready, Madam, and calls away; he longs to be at the end of his journey, to perform his Duty in the three Grants belong to you.

Alind.
O but that Woman, and that hated Boy.
Flav.
Eulalia▪ Madam?
Alind.
Thou art a base
Ingrateful Villain to name her to me;
Thou hear'st me say, I dare not speak her name,
Yet thou dar'st stab mine Ears again, with it.
Had some receiv'd the Favours thou hast done,
Or could but dream of half▪thou'rt like to have,
I should not fear her Ghost; but thou art dull.
Flav.
O let me take new spirit from your hand,
And say unto your self, She is sure dead.
But the King comes. I am enough inspir'd.
Exit Flav.

Scoen. IX.

Enter King and Gonzago.
King.
I will not onely have you guiltless, Sir,
But free from least suspect; let but a spark
Of Discontent appear upon your Look,
I'll rip the hollow cave that holds the fire,
And with Death quench it.
Gonz.
I beseech your Highness,
If any alteration in my looks
Be found, or read, let it as well be construed,
It grows but from a filial fear t'offend.
I have forgot I had another Mother:
And humbly at the Feet of this I honour,
I beg her Ayd, to win your Favour towards me.
Most gracious Madam, if you knew the Truth,
The fair sincerity I bear in Duty
Towards your Highness—
Alind.
For what respect, young Prince?
Gonz.
The principal i'th' World: For that you have
My Fathers Love; and but to Wrong or Grieve you,
Were Stripes or Wounds to his Affection.
So much of my late Mother I remember,
To yield a Reverence to his Contentment, and shall for ever.
Alind.
My Lord, my Love, what pretty meaning have you?
Do you bring your Son to mock me?
King.
Ha! my Alinda, he's no Son of mine,
That with lesse Adoration dares look up
On thy Divinity, then the Aegyptians
Gave to the Sun it self: but an out-cast Bastard,
[Page 66] And of the daring Giants ignorant Nature,
That war'd against the Gods.
Alind.

I would not move your Anger: pray let this win your Reconcilement.

[Kisses]
King.
O thou art gentle, and the life of Sweetness:
Come, my Alinda, I was calling you
To our intended Journey to Nicosta,
Where solemnly I will perform my Vow,
To grant the three demands I promis'd you,
In the full view of our Nobility.
Which by the Custome of my Predecessors
Have ratified and confirm'd the Power
Of Queens, and made them absolute: have you thought
To ask things worthy of your Dignity,
Wherein I fully may declare my Bounty?
Alind.
I, Sir, shall be so reasonable, that
I doubt not upon the way, or there at very instant,
To crave past my Desert.
King.
O you are modest: but ask home, Alinda.
Alind.
And by the way, Sir, let it be my Suit,
We give a Visit to distrest Eulalia;
Wherein we may do Charity fitting Princes;
(We may perhaps give Order for her Burial)
[aside]
King.
Thou art all Goodness: Come, all Friends, Gonzago:
But thank her Clemency.
Exit King.
Manet Alinda, to her Flavello.
Alind.
An Earldome be thou sure of, wise Flavello,
To add to thy improvements: Though it be
No full Discovery, I'll make it serve,
As I will fashion it, to excellent use.
Poyson or Sword thou heardst him speak?
Elav.
And in a menacing way: Now what may be
[Page 67] Conjectur'd by such words, from men whose looks
Shew discontent against your Mightiness,
Rests most considerable.
Alind.
VVrite, Flavello, write,
VVrite by that Copy in a States-Man's hand.
Alas, good men! I dare even swear for them,
How ere those words might fall in their discourse,
They had no thought of me: yet this surmise
Gives me an hint to try her Loyaltie,
Or make her once more guiltie: for my State
Stands by the King, as unto her his hate.
Read it Flavello.
[Reads.]

Most Royal and most wronged Soveraign Mistress, be happily assured that the time of your Restoration is at hand: and thatby no loss means then the death of that she-monster that usurps your Dignitie. All shall be determin'd at Ni­cosia, by

Your devoted Servant unto death. Nameless.

Alind.
'Tis well.
It needs no superscription: only seal it,
And think of your directions and disguise.
'Tis but your half days journey: and be sure
VVe are not far behind you.
Fla.
I flie, my Soveraign.
Alin.
Now to the King,
Of whose despight I still must sharp the sting.

Scoen. X.

Enter King, and Horatio.
King.
No news of Lodovico yet, Horatio?
Hor.
None since he stole from Court upon the Banishment
Of that false wicked woman, whom I cannot
Name to your face or forehead, but I tremble.
King.
Because you fear all horned Beasts.
Hor.
My Loyalty forbid,
And my infallible Truth unto the Crown,
But I were sensible of the injury.
King.
I know thy Loyalty: but as for Lodovico,
How was my Judgement wrong'd in him!
Hor.
And mine.
King.
I thought my self as safe in that mans Coun­sel—
Hor.
And so did I,
By my lov'd Loyalty, think my self safe
In his Advices—
King.
Yet methought he had
A kinde of slyness in his Countenance.
Hor.
Yes, he had ever a kind of a slie look.
King.
That still methought I had a Genius
That check'd my forward love, and did inform me
That he would prove disloyal: and for that cause,
To speak plain truth, I never lov'd him truely.
Hor.
VVill your Majesty believe me? I would I might never rise
Into your Favour (and that I would not say
For all the Traytors Lands in your Kingdom,
VVhich were no small reward) if that were not
Mine very own conceit of Lodovico
That Traytor; hang him: what should I call him less?
King.
Yet 'twas given out you lov'd him.
Hor.
[Page 69]
So 'twas thought your Highness did.
King.
And that he was your yoak-fellow in the State.
Hor.
Yes, when he's hang'd he shall be King. How Horatio?
Hor.
Your Majesty knows my thoughts: nay I thank my creation, I was ever
Just of your Majesties mind from my Nativitie,
And in that faith Ile die.
King.
Here's a true States­man now!
Go, send Gonzago to me.
Hor.
My sweet yong Prince?
I shall: but ere I go,
Let me inform your Highness in my thoughts
Of the sweet Prince Gonzago: if ever King
VVas happy in a Son, you are in him.
King.
Go, call him to me.
Hor.
Cherish him, good my Lord:
Hee'l be a sure staff to you in your Age,
And prove a Statesman quickly: I cannot think,
Except in him and your undoubted Queen,
Petruccio and my self, True Loyalty lives.
And here he comes: obedience in his Face
Most brightly shining.
Enter Gonzago.
King.
Wait without Horatio.
[Exit Horatio]
Gonzago?
Gonz.
My dread Lord.
King.
Did you attempt
Against my strict command to visit Sforza?
Gonza.
It is most true, I did.
King.
You are a Traytor.
Gonz.
Gracious Heaven forbid it.
King.
What was your purpose?
Gonza.
First on my knees let me implore your Royal Pardon.
King.
Well Sir.
Gonz.
[Page 70]
My end was noble: as I thought, well suit­ing
The Honour of a Prince: I would have search'd
Into the secrets of his heart by questions,
VVhether he had intended or conceived
Treason against your Highness, as it is
Presum'd he did: for which he was committed.
King.
My self for that was his Accuser;
How durst you then make a scruple at it?
Gonz.
Still relying on your Pardon, I had thought
T'have won confession of it from himself.
King.
Suppose he had confess'd it?
Gonza.
I had then
Concluded there had been a Probabilitie
Of my poor mothers falsehood: yet I would have put
That Question to him next.
King.
And say
He had confess'd that too?
Gonz.
Then had I sav'd
Your Laws a needless labour in his death;
And with the same hand made that mother child­less,
That by her folly forfeited her Husband.
King.
VVas that your resolution? but suppose
He had denied all?
Gonz.
All had then been nothing
But a Scandal to my mother and himself:
So good a Souldier would not be a lyer
To save an abject life.
King.
Sirrah, you are
His Bastard, not my son, in doing this.
Gonza.
You are my King, would I could say, my Father.
King.
Within there!
Enter Horatio.
Horatio, would you think it? this young stripling
Takes part against me with that Traytor Sforza.
Hor.
Does your Grace think so?
King.
Think so? I know it.
Hor.
Then I know it too: Think, did you say? I think 'twas time to think it.
King.
[Page 71]
I knew it not till now.
Hor.
As I am true to th' Crown, just now I knew it too.
Gonz.
O do not so interpret, Royal Sir.
Hor.
What can be said against it? has not his Grace spoke it?
What must be done with him to please your Majesty?
King.
Convey him from my sight, and let our Marshal
Petruccio take him to safe custody,
Till our further pleasure.
Gonz.
My King, and Fa­ther.
King.
Hence with him I say.
Gonz.
Great Sir, your mercy.
Hor.
Did not I tell your Majesty there was not,
But in the Queen, Petruccio, and my self,
True Loyaltie in the Court? Away you Traytor­ling.
Gonz.
My Lord, you are too severe.
Hor.
What? in being true to th' Crown? O my Loyaltie!
Exeunt with Gonzago.

Scoen. XI.

Enter Alinda, Flavello.
Alin.
No news yet? no return?
Flav.
We shall have, Madam.
Alin.
You made not choise of men of Resolution.
Flav.
They were the same exasperate cashier'd Souldiers
That sware so valiantly against Eulalia.
Alin.
Many that pass for Souldiers dare swear va­liantly,
That dare not fight.
Flav.
Many that dare not fight,
[Page 72] Dare do a murther Madam, such a tame one too.
I am confident they have kill'd her: however, I have done my best.
Alin.
Thou hast done nothing whilst that woman lives.
The work was not so course, that your own hand
Could have disdain'd it, Sir, if you had lov'd me.
So leave me, negligent Fellow.
Flav.
Her first months Majesty hath wip'd out
The memorie of all her former dayes.
I must not lose her though: this hand then soon
Must do the work, be 't not already done.
Exit.
King.
How cheers my love? what ominous aspect
Hath wrought this sad Eclipse upon that Beautie,
VVhose radiancie onely is my life?
Cast by this veil of sadness: quit my fears,
And from my Browes wipe off a score of years.
No? what must then remove it? or dispell
These Clouds, that from the anguish of thy heart
Do cast this shadow ore my happiness?
Alin.
I must not, will not name it: but you said
You would do something, which it seems
Your wavering love neglects.
King.
Can I neglect
A duty that belongs to my Alinda?
Speak it again: and by my first nights bliss
I had with thee, by this kiss, and by this,
Ile treble in performance all my promises.
Alin.
Y' are dull in your performances: I will
Not name a request the second time, although my life,
Your dignitie, and your Kingdoms safetie,
Lie on the rack for 't.
King.
She will not name 't again:
Her last request was for the head of Sforza,
Her arrogant proud Father, whose perversness
Checq'd at her due promotion; and whose life
[Page 73] Swolne up with Popularitie, was my danger,
Threatning no less then ruine on my State.
She will not name 't again, poor tender soul,
Lest she might fall into th' interpretation
Of an unnatural child: yet for my safetie,
She suffers in desire to have it done.
I have prevented her desire, 'tis done:
I know Petruccio his Antagonist,
Who had my warrant and Signet for it,
VVould not be slack in th' execution.
Come, sweet, be fearless: that which your mild good­ness
Is now so timerous to name, is done.
Alin.
Is she pursu'd and put to death?
King.
What she?
Alind.
Nay, I have said again.
King.
Sforza, my dearest life, th' unnatural Homi­cide
That sought thy life and mine, is put to death.
Alin.
VVhat, my dear Father?
King.
VVas it not your Desire?
Enter Petruccio.
Here comes sure Testimony: speak Petruccio;
I will not ask, Is 't done? but speak the manner
How Sforza di'd.
Petr.
A self-wil'd obstinate man:
Such as he liv'd he di'd: and gracious Madam,
That a more bloody Spectacle should not move
Your tender nature to compunction, I brought
But this inseparate Adjunct of his malicious Head
[a Jewel]
Against you, the King, and the whole Kingdoms good.
Alin.
This is a token most infallible,
The Jewel that none but the cold hand of Death
Could ravish from him: 'Tis done:
The fear of him is like a storm blown ore:
'Tis done but this is yet but part of that full satis­faction
[Page 74] That must confirm my safetie: Pray my Lord,
[side]
You fatal instrument of my Fathers blood,
Let me not look upon you.
King.
Nay Alinda,
Exit Petruccio.
You must not be so sad: your gentle sorrow
In those obsequious Tears express'd, shew nature
And Filial pietie as he was your Father:
But think upon your wrongs, my dangers, and your own.
Alin.
Alas my Lord, think you withall, a Father
Is not so early forgot. But sorrow leave me,
And do you give me leave to think, that now
It is no less a Childs part to embrace
Revenge then sorrow for a Fathers loss.
King.
How means my love?
Alin.
She lives that was his Ruine.
You may remember whom I mean: Eulalia.
Till now, I had no Plea against her life:
Onely my care of you might wish her Death,
For your security. Her fowl Adultery
And secret Practices against your Crown,
Were nothing unto me, compar'd with this.
Now I have lost a Father: she the cause:
He suffers, she survives: where are your Laws?
King.
Sweet, be content.
Alin.
Content your self great Sir,
With your black infamie: sit down content
On your Majestick Throne, the President
Of Capital contented Cuckolds, do,
Till all your Subjects dance the Hornpipe too.
King.
Nay dear Alinda, do but think—
Alin.
Think what?
VVhat on a course to be reveng'd on you?
To serve you in that kind my self?
Kin.
O torment!
Alin.
Or rather, let me think your lustful purpose
VVas but to rob me of my Virgin-Honour.
[Page 75] And that you put her by but for a time,
Until my youth had quench'd your Appetite;
Then to recal her home to your embraces.
She is your wife it seems then still: not I.
King.
You have awak'd me from a Lethargie
In which I was confounded: now I see
She and mine Honour cannot live at once:
She dies, Alinda.
Alin.
And you may consider
A little further yet Sir, if you please:
You Father and maintain a Son (your own
I cannot safely say, and therefore more
Is my vexation) who demeans himself
Not towards me, like one that were your wife.
King.
Hee's also doom'd already, my Alinda.
Alin.
It may prevent a greater strife hereafter,
Should he but live t'inherit Lands and Titles
That must belong to yours and my succession.
King.
Thy wisdom inspir'd me: all shall be
(Be thou but my Alinda) rul'd by thee.
Alin.
Seal you that Grant: with this kiss I Seal mine:
My glories were eclips'd, but now they shine.

ACT. IV.

Scoen. I.

Enter Poggio, Lollio, two Countrey-men with Eulalia.
Eul.
Y'Are welcome Friends, your prayers and good wishes
Are comforts to me, yet without danger of the Proclamation.
Pog.
Madam, the Court in all the Braverie
It boasts and borrows, cannot so rejoyce
[Page 76] In the bright shining Beauty of their Queen,
As we in your enjoying in this plainness.
Their Bells, and Bonfires, Tilts and Tournaments,
Their Feasts and Banquets, Musicks and costly shews
(How ere unpaid for) shall not outpass our loves.
Eul.
Be you as confident, I will not wrong
A man among you: therefore pray reserve
What is your own, and warrant your own safety.
Pogg.
But how you'll live, we know not: we are now
In our old former Health: the Countrey's cur'd,
Your Practice at an end: unless you had
The common gift of most Physitians,
To make as many sick, as you make sound,
You will not find a Patient in seven years.
Eul.
But I have other Arts: sufficient skill
In works of several kinds, the Needle, Loome,
The Wheel, the Frame, the Net-Pin: and choice of
Fingers works are most familiar with me.
Lol.
And can you handle the Bobbins well, good Woman?
Make statute-Lace? you shall have my Daughter.
Pogg.
And mine, to make Tape-Purles: can you do it?
Eul.
Yes, and teach all your children works to live on.
The which, together with my own labour,
May bring sufficient for my maintenance:
Without the idle help of Begging, Borrowing,
Or any way infringing the Kings Command.
Lol.
You'l have a help beyond himself, but bor­rowing.
Eul.
Something I have in Book, to help their know­ledge,
And by practise give them literature.
Then when these serious works and studies toil us,
[Page 77] For Recreation, yet with equal skil,
VVee'l practice divers Instruments, Songs and mea­sures,
That shall invite the Powers above to smile
On the content of which we them beguile.
Pog.
Well Mistris, ours is the voice of the whole Countrey;
All which, or what you please of it, is yours:
Take this House: make your choice of servants.
Take our children: make your own Rates for their Education.
Our Purses and our lives are free to you:
Get what you can, that's your own: will this please you?
Eul.
Yes gentle Friends, and with asmuch content
As ere I found in height of Government.
Pog.
Take your possession then: and let
Posteritie record, that without grieving
A Royal Queen once Traded for her living.

Scoen. II.

Enter Curate.
Cur.
Eho, oh, io, where is my learned sister?
Eul.
Why seem you so distracted?
Cur.
Proh Sancto Jupiter!
Eul.
Alas what is the matter?
Cur.
Hei mihi Qua­lis erat?
Talis erat qualem nunquam vidi.
Andr.

Sure, sure, his Scholars have over-Ma­ster'd him, and whipt him out of his wits.

Cur.
Corpus inane animae, hold thy peace.
Eul.
Pray speak, what chance has happened?
Cur.

Non est narr andi locus: Go forth and see. Th' [Page 78] enraged Rurals are in an uproar lowd, each one an Hercules furens, a formidabilis formidandus Hostis and quite against the Law

Of nostrum est injuriam non inferre,
Are on the point of making themselves merry,
In hanging those ill destin'd men by th' neck
That sought so late to give your neck the check.
Eul.
O let us flie to rescue them.
Andr.
Yet I hope
Your hast will bring you short to cut the Rope.

Scoen. III.

Enter Lollio, Poggio, and guard, with Fabio and Strozza.
Lol.
Bring 'em away to present execution:
They have lien too long upon the Countreys charge.
We have given 'em bread and water a whole for­night.
Fab.
You dare not do't: what Law are we con­demn'd by?
Pog.
Dare we not do't? that word's an hanging matter
Here in our Civil Government: dare not do 't Sir?
VVee'l do't; and when 'tis done, wee'l argue Law with you.
Stroz.
When you have tane our lives, you'l lay the
Law to us: you cannot be so Barbarous.
Lol.

Impudent Traytors! how dare you say we cannot? yet because we graciously are pleas'd to put the Law out of our hands, and make you hang your selves, Ile give you Reason: Silence on your lives. First, know, lewd men, y' are Traytors to the King, In offering to be wiser then his Judgement, Which was but Banishment to the good Eulalia:

[Page 79] Seeking most Trayterously to take the life
Of (I do not say the Queen, but) the Kings wife
Of most happy memory.
Fab.
The good Eulalia?
Stroz.
the Kings wife?
Pog.
That was:
You shall not catch us tripping Sir,
VVe are more than your match.
Lol.
Good I do say she is, and good again
I dare pronounce he [...] that by dayly pain
VVorks for her dayly bread: and for bare hire,
Teacheth our children so, that we admire:
The Infants who have understanding more
Then we their Parents have, or then
Our Fore-fathers before us had.
Pog.

But brother Lollio, make not your speech so long: what is 't to them? they'l carry none on 't to th' 'other world: let's do what we came to do, e'en hang 'em. Then, as I said, wee'l argle it afterwards.

Lol.
But brother Poggio, better 'tis they live
A minute two or three, then such a Speech
As I am now upon, be lost.
Enter Lodovico, Pedro, Curate, Andrea, Eulalia.
Pog.
See what y' have won by your delay! if she prevent not now
The good we meant her, I dare hang for 'm.
Cur.
In tempore venimus with a Reprieve, quod omnium Rerum est Primum.
Eul.
Alas, what mean you neighbours? would you now
For all my labours and my Prayers for you,
Blast me with curses of expiring men?
What trespass have I done you, that for me
You put these men to death against my will?
Fab. Stroz.
We do applaud your mercy, gracious Queen.
Pog.
[Page 80]
There now, there they deserve hanging for that:
They call you Queen, against the Proclamation.
Dare you maintain 'em in't, and now speak for 'em?
Eul.
No, I condemn their faults, and blame their lives;
But have nor Power nor will to judge the men:
You have the will; but to assume the Power,
You take the Kings Right from him: you transgresse
As much his Laws in spilling of their blood,
As they had done in mine, had they prevail'd.
Andr.

They do not intend to spill their blood, Countrey woman, they would but strangle them: never pierce the skin, nor make 'm an hair worse men, if you consider rightly what they are.

Lol.

But to the point. This is the All and some: We meant you a good turn, and for your sake t' have hang'd 'em right or wrong. Now since you will needs stand in your own highway of womens wisdom, which is wilfulness

(Cur.

A most Elegant Figure!) Let'em and please you come to the Gallows another day for killing you out right: who can help it?

Cur.

Oraculously spoken: which of the Sages could said more?

Lol.

'Tis not unknown to you, that I can speak like a Sage, and am one of the Sages of our Precinct here for the Laytie, though your learning lie another way among us. I am a Sage, and will be a Sage.

Pog.

And so am I, and will be: and but that wise woman, which is as much to say as a fool for her la­bour.

Cur.

Another elegant Figure.

Pog.

But that, I say, she has gain-said it, we would; yet to shew our selves Sages, hang 'em up for Scarcrowes, to fright all their fellows for coming from Court to kill women in the Countrey.

Andr.
[Page 81]

O how I love a Sage! how many Sages do you allow in your Precinct?

Lol.

Some three or four main Heads: we have now only Pedro, Poggio and my self:

But we have many Powers under us:
These now are Powers that execute our Commands.
There is as much difference between a Sage and a Power,
As between a Judge and a Hangman.
Andr.

But is not the learned Curate a Sage amongst ye?

Lol.

No, as I said before, their learning lies another way: we allow not our Clergie any Tem­poral Offices, for reasons known unto our selves.

Andr.

Pray let me have a Sages place amongst ye then: I long to be a Sage.

Lol.

Brother Andrea, you shall have my voice in your Election.

Andr.

Sage Brother Lollio, I thank you.

Cur.
But will ye now, if misericordially
This gracious Foeminine preserve your lives
Ex ore lupi,
from the Gallow Tree,
Become new men indeed?
Eul.
I know they will
When they consider the most dangerous sin,
That threw them on their desperate Attempt,
And their escape from merited Punishment,
They cannot be so graceless, not to turn
To a reformed life: First know, yong men,
Your former Act 'gainst me an Innocent,
Was Perjurie by which I fell, yet flourish.
Consider there how black and fowl your Sin
Is rendred by my Chrystal innocence:
Your next Attempt against me, was blacker, Murder,
The very word sounds horrow.
Stroz.
Gentle Madam,
Name it not then: but by your sacred mercy,
Acquit us of the Doom which we so justly
Have drawn upon our selves: and we will spend
[Page 82] Our lives in rendring satisfaction
To your abused goodness.
Eul.
This is serious.
Fab.

Or may the earth on which we kneel for favour,

Forc'd by the weight of our detested Sins, open.
Amb.
Quick devour us.
Eul.
So, enough:
Ile take your words.
Lod.
But now you must reveal
By whom you have been wrought to these fowl Practices.
Fab.

All, wee'l discover all, though justly then we pay our lives to Law.

Lod.

Good neighbours, Lollio, Poggio, and Andrea, conduct them to my House.

Cur.
My self also will to be their securer con­voy go,
For fear the Rusticks may presume again
To stretch these penitent necks with halter strain.
Lod.
You shall do well: I thank your Charity.
Lol.
Well, since in these we are prevented thus,
Come more, wee'l hang 'em, or they shall hang us.
Andr.

Make me but once a Sage, and then fear nothing.

Pogg.

Thou shalt be one next Sessions, without all peradventure.

Lod.
When we have tane these mens confessions,
Ile write at large each passage to the King,
Against the good Eulalia's will or knowledge
Pedr.
Ile be your faithful Messenger, my Lord.
Lod.
Thanks my good Pedro: but remember Silence.
So deep in thought good Madam?
Eul.

Never enough in contemplation of my Hap­piness.

Pedr.

It is your Heavenly mind that sweetens all things.

[Page 83] Enter one of the Countreymen.
Pogg.

VVhat's the matter man?

Doubtless and without all peradventure, more miracles.

Pogg.

The news, good neighbour.

Countr.

O neigbours Poggio and Lollio, such a news, such a Discoverie, such a thing is come to pass, such a business is come to light, as your hearts never heard, your Tongues never thought, nor your ears ever utter'd: you cannot hear it, but it will drown you in a Sea of Admiration, never to rise again in your right wits.

Lol.

Now am I mad till I hear it.

Pog.

Thou shalt tell me first whether it be good or bad, or Ile not hear it.

Countr.

It is good or bad I assure you: and there­fore you may be gone.

Pog.

I mean which is it? good or bad?

Countr.

I say it is good and bad: and you may both stay and be gone, hear it or hear it not, an't' please you.

Pog.

Nay thou art in thy Jibes now: how good or how bad is thy news?

I pray thee neighbour, I do pray thee how good or bad is it?
Countr.

Nay then it is neither good nor bad, but both: the best and the worst that ever you heard in your life, and the worst shall out first: what do you think of the woman that we have got among us?

Pog.

Who, the holy woman? that we are all so bound to pray for? I hope no ill's betide her.

Countr.

Come, shee's a witch: flatly and plainly said to be a witch.

Pog.
[Page 84]

Did not I tell you she was an unknown woman, and therefore a good one, quoth you? but say I, doubt­lesly; and without all peradventure, all that she did was but a kind of witchcraft.

Lol.

It cannot, fie, it cannot be: how is she found so? Countr. I do not say shee's found a witch, but she's accus'd for one.

Pog.

By whom is she accus'd?

Countr.
By two brave men at Arms that came from Court
VVith purpose to have kill'd her for the same.
To be short, They found her out, and naked swords they drew:
But as they thought to have thrust her through and through,
They both dead Palsie-struck fall to the ground.
Countr.
And had no strength but of their Tongues to wound
The Fame she had.
Pog.
Vertue can want no Foes,
Count.
VVith that they cryed she was a witch, and swore
She also was that Queen which for a whore
The King had turn'd away.
Pog.

This is indeed the best news thou couldst bring.

Now doubtlesly and without all peradventure, 'tis the Queen indeed: and if she be not a witch, I am sorry I thought so, with all my heart: where be those men? wee'l hang'm presently.

Countr.

No, the Queen, if she be the Queen, will not have them hurt more then they be: we wete about to execute 'em: but she would not suffer it.

Lol.

Goodness it self!

Pog.

Nay without all peradventure, if there be goodness above ground, I said, and I say it again, 'tis in that woman.

Countr.

She would have cur'd 'em presently her self: but could not do't, because the cruel Caitifs [Page 85] would not confesse their sins, as she made us, you know, before her gift could cure us: by the same token I suffered an hours torment that I might have scap'd, because I was so loath to bring out that naughtie business betwixt me and the Millers wife.

Pog.

'Twas well you confess'd at last.

Countr.

I, and they will be glad to confess, before they be able to stir hand or foot, I warrant: and so I told 'm when I lodg'd 'em both lovingly together upon straw in my Barn, too good for 'em; and so I told 'em too, for being Traytors to her Holiness.

Lol.

But where's our Holy woman?

Pog.

Our Queen wee'l call her now, without all peradventure.

Lol.

Coming this way to her Court-Cottage here, but very slowly, though our two new neighbours make the best way they can for her through the Peo­ple that press upon her so with thanks and offerings for their new Healths: but she takes not so much for curing of a thousand mortal People, as I have spent in Turpentine and Tarre to keep my Flocklings cleanly in a Spring time. Hark, she comes: this is her Musick where ere she goes.

[Shout within.]
All.

Heaven bless our Holy woman.

Scoen. III.

Enter Lodovico, Eulalia, Andrea.
Lod.
Depart good neighbours, good people all de­part: shee'l come abroad again to morrow.
Within Heaven bless our Holy woman.
Andr.
She thanks you all good People, pray de­part,
To morrow you shall have the second part:
She shall appear again unto you; pray depart,
The men in Peace, the Wives in quietness,
[Page 86] And let your bigger children still the less.
[All within.]
Heaven bless our Holy woman.
Andr.
So, now the Hubbub's gone: I pray pass on.
I shall be as weary of the Cottage, as of the Court,
If this noise hold: here's thrusting and crowding
As much as there, onely here they have less Pride.
Eul.
VVas ever comfort in the Court like this?
Lod.
I never liv'd till now.
Enter three country-men more.
Andr.
Here come more of our weather-headed wise neighbours.
Pog.
Heaven bless our Holy woman.
1.
Heaven bless your Holiness.
2.
Nay then Heaven bless our Sacred Soveraign.
Eul.
This Homage fits not me.
1.
We had not liv'd but by your sacred means;
And will no longer live then be your Subjects.
Eul.
You go about to cast away your lives:
In serving or in succouring me, you fall
Into Rebellion against the King.
2.
We have no King nor Queen but you.
Heaven bless your Majesty.
Omn.
Heaven bless your Majestie.
Andr.
That was pronounc'd bravely; O my brave new neighbours!
Eul.
Y' are Traytors All.
1.
In honouring our Soveraign?
Andr.
I, well said, hold her to it.
Eul.
How dare you call me so?
2.
VVe dare, and can prove it good and lawful.
This Province is engag'd unto you Madam,
The King made it your Joynture: and we find
No reason but you instantly possesse it.
Eul.
VVhat, and the King alive?
1.
[Page 87]
He's dead to you.
Lol.
Yes, yes, he's dead to you.
Andr.
VVell said again: that's a sound point, be­sworn
These be true Blades.
Eul.
I tremble but to hear you,
And will not live an hour amongst you more
But with this freedom, To use my fair obedience to the King.
2.
You shall obey the King then, and we'll obey your Majesty.
Eul.
O let that Title die with my late Fortune:
Remember it no more, but let me be
As one of you; nay rather, an Inferior,
Or I from this abiding must remove:
Of which I first made choice in truth for love.
3.
O Madam!
Eul.
Take heed good neighbours,
Beware how you give Dignitie or Title; therein you may transgress.
2.
No whit good Madam. Observe the Dialect of France,
And you shall find Madam given there in Courtesie,
To women of low Fortunes, unto whom
'Tis held a poore addition, though great Queens
Do grace and make it Royal.
Eul.
'Tis then the Greatness of
The Person dignifies the Titles, not it the Person.
1.
And in that, Madam, you are in your content
Above all Title's proper to great Princes:
But setting this aside, how thrive your Scholars?
Eul.
We go fairly on.
[Enter 1. Girl.]
look you Sir,
Here's one that knew no letter in the Book
Within these ten days, can read hitherto,
And waits for a new lesson: proceed hither—
And at your hour Ile hear you.
1. Girl.
Yes for­sooth Mistresse.
Enter 2. Girl.
Eul.

Good Girl, well said: nay, nay, hold up your head: so, so, 'tis very well: let's see your Samplar: [Page 88] what an hearts ease is here! Lod. Right in its per­fect Colours.

Eul.

Nay shee'l do well: now take me out this Flower. Keep your work clean, and you shall be a good Maid.

Enter 3. Girl.

Now where's your writing book?

3. Girl,

'Tis here for­sooth. Pray shall I haye a Joyn-hand Copy next?

Eul.

No child, you must not Joyn-hand yet: you must your letters and your minums better first. Take heed, you may Joyn-hand too soon, and so mar all: still youth desires to be too forward. Go take your Lute, and let me hear you sing the last I taught you.

[Song]
Enter 4. Girls.

Scoen. IV.

Enter Doctor and Midwife.
Lod.

Whither do you press? who would you speak withall?

Doctor.
O Sir, for Charity sake give us access unto the holy woman.
Lod.
Who are you? or from whence?
Doct.

We are poor Pilgrims man and wife, that are upon our way struck with sad pain and sorrow.

Andr.
Alas poor Pilgrims! here's she must do you good.
Eul.

How divine Justice throwes my Enemies in­to my hands? what are your griefes?

Doct.
My wife is struck with dumbness.
Andr.
Hold a little,
That's the greatest grief a woman can endure:
But trouble not thy self to seek for cure.
Too many a man i'th' world will change with thee
A wife that of her Language is too free,
And give good Boot.
Eul.
Pray Sir be you silent.
And where's your pain?
Doct.
Here in this hand;
[Page 89] Which I desire to shew in some more privacie.
Eul.
Because your Blow cannot be safely given here, you think.
O sinful wretch! thou hadst no pain till now;
Nor was she dumb till divine Providence
Now at this instant struck her. It is now
Just as thou saist: and justly are you punished
For treacherous counterfeits. Lodowick search his hand.
Lod.
His hand is wither'd, and lets fall a Knife.
Andr.
As sharp to do a mischief as ere was felt on.
Eul.
Now take off his false Beard: see if you know him,
And let the woman be unmuffled.
Lod.
O Divels!
Andr.
O the last couple that came out of Hell!
Lod.
These are the other two that damn'd them­selves
In perjurie against you at your Tryal.
Andr.
How do you master Doctor, and Mistress Midwife?
Is this the Pen your Doctorship prescribes with?
This might soon write that might cure all diseases:
And are these the Labours you go to, Mistress Mid­night?
VVould you bring women to bed this way?
Omn.
O damnable conspirators!
Eul.
Pray take 'm hence, their time 's not come for cure yet.
Andr.
Come away Pilgrims: we'll cure 'em for you,
If your own salves can cure you: O my sweet Pil­grims.
1.
Fough, they stink of Treason damnably
2.
VVhat, shall we hang'm? drown 'em? or burn 'em?
1.
They shall taste fortie deaths, then take their own.
[Page 90]
2.

I, come away with 'em: they shall die fortie times without peradventure,

Eul.

You shall lose me, if you do any violence to any of 'em: but let'm be lodg'd with those we took to day: Ile feed 'em all.

Andr.
They'l be a jolly com­pany.
Eul.
Pray do as I intreat.
3.
You shall in all command us.
1.

Ile make my Barn a spittle for your conspira­tors till it be top full, and then set fire on't, and please you.

Eul.

Do you no harm, and fear none: send your Children.

2. Omn.
Long live our Queen.
Andr.
Your Queen? have you a mind to be hang'd?
Queen? have you a mind to be hang'd?
Omn.
our School-Mistress, we would say.
Eul.
VVe live secure in spight of Foes: and see,
Where Heaven protects, in vain is Treacherie:
VVho says out State is low, or that I fell
When I was put from Court? I did not rise
Till then, nor was advanc'd till now. I see
Heaven plants me 'bove the reach of Treachery.
Lod.
O happie, happie Saint!
Ex. Rustici with Doct. and Midwife.

Scoen. V.

Enter Flavello, alias Alphonso, with a Letter to Eulalia, Poggio and Lollio following.
Lol.
I would she had a Councel: she shall have a Councel,
And we will be the Heads thereof,
Though I be put to the pains to be President my self.
Pog.
It is most requisite for her safety: her danger may be great.
[Page 91] A good guard then in my opinion were more requi­rable.
Lol.

'Tis well consider'd: she shall have a Guard too: and we will be the limbs thereof, though I be put to the trouble of Captain on't my self.

Pog.

You will put on all Offices, yet count 'em pain and trouble.

Lol.

Yes, and perform 'em too here in our Court of Conscience, for here's no other profit to hinder the Dutie: let them above do what they list; we will have as much care of our School-Mistress, as they of their Semiramis: I speak no Treason nor no trifles neither, if you mark it. But she must never know this care of ours, She'll urge the Statute of Relief against it.

Pog.

This is some Courtier sure that's with her; he smells illfavordly.

Lol.

That made me dog him hither.

Pog.

He shall not have her out of sight, that's certain.

Lol.

Nor out of reach neither: a mischief's quickly done.

Eul.

No Superscription, nor any names unto it. Most Royal and most wronged Soveraign Mistress: (that must needs be me.) Be happily assured your Restauration is at hand; And by no less means then by her Death that usurps your Dignitie: (a plain conspiracie against Alinda in my be­half.) All shall be determined at Nicosia, by

Your Loyal Servants.

Nameless.

Eul.

You know not the contents then, and are bound by Oath you say not to reveal the senders of this Letter.

Alph.

It is most true: onely thus much I tell you, they are your noble and best chosen Friends.

Eul.

Heaven! can it be, that men in my respect can plunge into such danger?

Alph.
[Page 92]
So Madam, this being all I had in charge,
I must crave leave (indeed I do not like this
Oportunitie, nor well the countenances of these Hobnols.
[aside]
Eul.
You are no messenger of such ill Tidings
To part so slightly: indeed you shall not.
Alph.
She's honied with the newes: I have al­ready
Madam my Reward, and will no longer stay.
Eul.
Then I must say, you shall stay: or Ile send
A cry as loud as Treason after you.
Alph.
You'l wrong yourself and Friends then.
Omn.
You wrong your self Sir, and we charge you stay.
Alph.
By the command of Peasants?
Lol.
How! you choplogical Rascal, Peasants!
Pog.
Down with him into utter darkness.
Eul.
No-violence good Friends: but if you will detain him
Till I give order for his libertie,
You do the State good service.
Lol.
May it do you Service?
Pog.
The State is finely serv'd already.
Eul.
Me most of all.
Lol.
Hell cannot hold him faster then.
Alph.
Madam, hear me.
Lol.
Mad Asse, hold your prating till she calls you:
Mean time you are fast: 'twas time we were a Councel or a Guard.
Exeunt with Alphonso.
Eul.
I thank thee Providence, I dreamed not of such ready help.
I am struck through with wonder at this Letter:
I could not at the first but think't a Bayt
To catch my willingness to such an Act;
Or Gullerie to mock my Hopes or wishes,
In case I had such: therefore I desired
The Messengers restraint from being my Relator:
But now a strong Belief possesses me,
A [...]oble Fury has stirr'd up some Friends
[Page 93] To this high enterprize: whereby I gather
My cause is weigh'd above, whence I shall see
How well my patience over-rules my wrong,
And my Foes ruin'd with mine Honours safety.
But let my better Judgement weigh those thoughts,
I do not seek revenge, why shall I suffer it?
My causeless injuries have brought me Honour,
And 'tis her shame to hear of my mis-hap.
And if by Treachery she fall, the world
Will judge me accessarie, as I were indeed
In this foreknowledge of the foul intent,
Should I conceal it.
Then here's the trembling doubt which way to take▪
Whether to rise by her Destruction,
Or sink my Friends, discovering their pretence.
Friends have no Priviledge to be treacherous:
She is my Soveraignes wife, his chief content;
Of which to rob him, were an act of horrour
Committed on himself. The question's then,
Whether it be more foul ingratitude
To unknown Friends, and for an act of Sin,
Then to be treacherous to the Prince I love?
It is resolv'd: Ile once more see the Court.
Lollio, Poggio and Countreymen return.
O my good Patrons, I must now intreat
Means for my Journey to attend the King,
On a discoverie for the present safetie
Of his fair Queen: she will be murder'd else.
Pog.

And let her go: we have shut up your news-bringer safe enough, will keep you by your favour, short enough from hindring such a work.

Eul.

Dear Friends, a small matter will prevent this world of dangers.

Lol.
Would you have us to become Traytors, to
Supply your wants against the Proclamation?
If you be well, remain so: your Iudustry
Can keep you here: but for a Journey, that
[Page 94] Requires Horses and Attendants: money must he had▪
Which we have not for such an idle purpose.
Eul.
O hear me.
Pog.

Will you neglect your House and Trade to meddle any more with State-matters?

Pog.
And bring our necks in danger to assist you?
Let your own counsell advise you to stay.

Scoen. VI.

Enter King, Petruccio.
King.
How died the Boy?
Petr.
Gonzago Sir, your Son?
King.
My Son, my Son? you urge the name of Son
To work remorse within me, when I ask
How died that Bastard Boy; no Son of mine.
Petr.
His last words that he spake to me, were these;
Go, tell the King my Father, that his frown
Hath pierc'd my heart: tell him, if all his Land
Be peopled with obedient hearts like mine,
He needs no lawes to second his displeasure,
To make a general Depopulation:
But that he may not lose so much, I pray
That in my Death his misse-plac'd anger die,
And that his wrath have double force 'gainst those
That to his Person and his Laws are Foes.
King.
Did he say so?
Petr.
And then, as if the Spirit of Prayer
Had onely been habitual in his soul,
He did implore Heaven's goodness to come down,
Lifting him hence to shine upon your Crown.
King.

This Boy yet might be mine, though Sforza might have wrong'd me by the By.

Petr.

This done, he pray'd me leave the Roome. I wept: In sooth I could-not chuse.

King.
[Page 95]

Well, well, you wept, return'd, and found him dead in's Bed you say.

Petr.
Yes, in so sweet a Posture, as no Statuarie
With best of skill on most immaculate Marble
Could fashion him an Image purer, slighter.
King.
No more.
Petr.
I found his stretch'd-out fingers which so lately
Had clos'd his eyes, still moistned with his tears;
And on his either cheek a tear undryed,
Which shone like Stars.
King.
It seems he wept and died.
Prithee no more: I cannot though forget
My threatnings were too sharp: I must forget it.
I charge you that you leavy up our Army
Against those Rebels that we hear give succour
Unto the wretched cause of all my mischiefes,
That hated ill-liv'd woman.

Scoen. VII.

Enter Horatio.
Hor.
O my dread liege?
King.
The matter? speaks; how does the Queen?
Hor.
O the sweet Queen! I fear, I fear, I fear.
King.
What fearst thou? speak the worst I charge thee.
Hor.
I fear she has a Moonflaw in her brains:
She chides and fights that none can look upon her.
Her Fathers Ghost, in her I think: here she comes.
Alin.
Where's this King? this King of Clouts,
Petr.
Fearful effect of Pride!
Alin.
This shadow of a King, that stands set up
As in a Press among the Raggs and Vizors
[Page 96] That represent his deceas'd Ancestors.
King.
What means my love?
Alin.
Your love? where is your love?
Where is the preparation that you promis'd
Of strength to tear in pieces that vile Witch
That lives my souls vexation? your love?
You are a load of torment: your delays
To my desires are Hellish cruelties.
Are these your Promises?
[Horatio holds up his hands.]
King.
I have given order with all speed I could.
Alin.
You could cut off an old man in a Prison,
That could make no resistance, and you could
Vex a poor Boy to death, that could but cry
In his defence; that you could do; but this
That has so much shew of fear or hardness,
As a few Peasants to maintain a Strumpet
Against your Dignitie, is too much to do
For a poor coward King.
Petr.
What a tyrannous Ambition
Has the Devil puff'd up this Bladder with!
King.
I fear her wits are craz'd indeed. Alinda,
Hear me gentle love.
Alin.
O my torment!
Hor.
As I am true to the Crown, I know not what to say to this: she's falling mad sure.
Alin.
No, no, you dare not do't: your Army may
Perhaps i'th' dangerous Action break a shin,
Or get a bloody nose: it now appears
My Father (as 'twas voyc'd) was all your valour.
Y' have never a Mars or Cuckold-making General
Now left: and for your self, you'r past it.
Hor.
His' tother wife would not have us'd him thus.
Quiet Cuckoldrie is better then scolding chastitie all the world over.
King.
I see distraction in her face.
Alin.
[Page 97]
Did all your brave Commanders die in Sforza?
Petr.
By the Kings favour Madam (not to stir
The dust of your dead Father) he has Souldiers
That know to lead and execute no less
Then did victorious Sforza.
Alin.

Sirrah! you have stirr'd more then his dust; you have mov'd his blood in me, unto a Justice that claims, they trayterous head.

Petr.
My head? and Trayterous? I do appeal un­to the King.
Alin.
A King? a Cobweb.
Hor.
And she the Spider in't I fear.
My Loyaltie knowes not how to look upon her.
Alin.
If thou beest King, thou yet art but that King
That ows me love and life, and so my subject.
King.
Indeed Alinda;—
Alin.
Yes indeed Gon­zago,
Life by inheritance: for my valiant Father
Whose life thou tookst, gave thine, and so 'tis mine.
And for your love, you dare not wrest it from me;
Therefore deny not now my just demand,
In that proud Traytors head.
Hor.
She's mad be­yond all cure.
King.
Examine his offence, my dear Alinda.
Alin.
Is't not enough Alinda doth command it?
Are these the Articles you gave me grant of?
Is this the nothing that you would deny me?
King.
Sweet, weigh but his offence.
Alin.
His Head is my offence: and give me that
Now, without pause, or by the strength of Hercules
Ile take thee by the Horns, and writhe thine own off.
King.
Go from her sight Petruccio; levie up our Forces,
And let the Boy Gonzago be embowell'd,
And sent as a forerunner of our Furie
[Page 98] Unto that Witch, contriver of these woes.
Petr.
'Tis done, my liege.
[Exit Petruccio.]
Alin.
Was ever woman barr'd her will, as I am?
Hor.
Here's a fine woman spoil'd now, by humo­ring her at first, and cherishing her Pride.
Alin.
Sure you have but mock'd me all this while:
I am no wife, no Queen, but silly Subject.
King.
'Tis a disease in her that must be sooth'd:
Sweet, thou shalt have his Head.
Alin.
O, shall I so?
King.
Go in, it shall be brought thee.
Alin.
Mark what I say to bind you to your word:
Do it, or Ile not love you: I can change
Love into hate, hate into love most sweetly:
Let that man live to morrow, Ile love him,
And do fine feats with him, such as your tother wife
And Sforza did; but make much better sport on't.
They were an old dry couple.
Hor.
Take this, take all.
Alin.
I leave all to your Kingly consideration:
You know your charge: look to't, and so I leave you.
Exit.
King.
What wild Affections do in women raign!
But this a Passion past all President.
O 'tis meer Madness, mix'd with Divellish cunning,
To hurl me upon more and endless mischiefes:
It has awak'd me to the sight of those
My fury (sprung from Dotage) hath already
Laid in my Path, grim Spectacles of horror,
The blood of Sforza, and that tender Boy:
O let me think no further, yet stay there:
To plunge at first into too deep a Sense
Of soul-afflicting terrours, drowns the Reason,
And stupifies the Conscience, which delivers
Us over to an insensibilitie
Of our misdeeds, and of our selves: just Heaven!
Afford me light to see I am misled:
But let it not as lightning blast mine eyes,
[Page 99] Confound my Senses, make me further stray,
For ever coming back to know my way.
Hor.
How fares your Majesty?
Kin.
O Horatio! shee's lost, shee's lost, Horatio.
Hor.
I would my wife were with her then:
And so would any good Subject say; I think.
King.
What dost thou think?
Hor.

Marry I think (and so would any good Sub­ject think, I think) as your Majestie thinks.

King.
What dost thou think of Loyaltie now?
Hor.
Truly I think there's now not any warrant­able Loyaltie left but in Petruccio and my self.
The Queen is now out of my Catalogue, and my Creed too.

Scoen. VIII.

[A shout within] crying, Kill him, kill him: for Sforza, Sforza: kill him for the blood of Sforza, Sforza, &c.
King.
What terrible, what hideous noise is this?
[Within.]
Kill him for Sforza, Sforza; kill him, kill him.
Hor.
My Loyaltie defend me! I know not what to make on't.
[Enter a Captain distractedly, Sforza Disguised.]
King.
What art thou? speak: hadst thou the voice of Hell,
Denouncing all the Furies in't, I dare yet hear thee; speak.
Capt.
O mighty Sir, Petruccio.
King.
What of Petruccio?
Capt.
O Petruccio! I tremble but to speak him.
King.
Shall I then with the Prophetique Spirit of a King
Speaks of Petruccio? he is turn'd Traytor,
[Page 100] And animates the Souldiers against me,
Upon the discontent Alinda gave him
Now in her Fury: is't not so?
Hor.
'Tis so, 'tis so: ne'er ask him for the matter:
I thought so, just, just as your Majestie thought it;
And find withall, that now you have not left
A Loyal heart but in Horatio's bosome,
Now that Petruccio fails: I fear'd 'twould come
To that: nay knew't: O hang him, hang him,
False hearted villain! he was never right,
And so I always told your Majesty.
[Shout.]
King.
The cry comes neerer still: what does he mean,
To bring my Army on to Massacre
Me in my House?
Capt.
Dread Sir, vouchsafe atten­tion:
Petruccio is Loyal: 'tis his Loyaltie,
And most sincere obedience to your will,
That brings him to the ruine of his life,
Unless your aweful Presence make prevention.
King.
Is then his Loyaltie become his danger?
Capt.
As thus great Sir, in the late Execution
Of Death-doom'd Sforza, which the Souldier
(Not looking on your Justice, but the Feud
That was betwixt Petruccio and him)
Resents as if it were Petruccio's Act,
Not yours, that cut him off: and still, as madly
Bewitch'd with Sforza's love, as ignorant
Of the desert of brave Petruccio,
They all turn head upon him: and as if
'Twere in his power to new create him to them,
They cry to him for Sforza, Sforza; or if not,
Petruccio's life must answer Sforza's blood.
King.
Left you him in that distress?
Capt.
He did prevail
With much entreatie, by some private reasons,
Upon their fury for an hours respite:
[Page 101] In which dear time 'tis onely you may save
Guiltless Petruccio from a timeless Grave.
King.
Thou art a Souldier, art not?
Capt.
And have commanded in your Highnesse Wars.
King.
Me thinks I should remember, but Ile trust thee.
Hor.
I hope you'll be advis'd, though, how you run
Into this wild-fire of Rebellion.
King.
My Fortune is more desperate then his:
I am beset and circled in with mischiefes.
Way-laid with heaps of dangers every where:
Yet I will on: Kings were not made to fear.
Ile fetch him off, and the more readily,
For my misprision of his Loyaltie.
Could I think that man false?
Hor.
No Sir, nor I:
By all meanes fetch him off: that Loyal General
Is tenfold worth the whole Rebellious Army:
Save him, and hang them all.
Enter Petruccio with a Rabble of Souldiers, and two Captains, crying, Come, come, away with him, away with him.
Petr.
Have you no Faith, nor due obedience
Unto the King? this outrage is 'gainst him,
In me he suffers.
1. Capt.
We obey the King,
And 'tis his Justice that we cut your throat,
For doing such outrage in the death of our brave General,
That had you lives more then false drops of blood,
They were not all sufficient satisfaction for his losse.
2. Capt.
Your limited hour draws on apace: Prepare.
Enter a Servant.
Petr.
He's come within that hour, that shall relieve me.
Where is he? is he come?
Serv.
You are betray'd:
[Page 102] He's fled and gone: no such man to be found.
Petr.
Then Faith is fled from man: is Sforza fled?
Why should I wish to live, now Honour's dead?
Now take your bloody course, and in my fall,
Martyr the man that sav'd your General.
1. Capt.
Sav'd him? how sav'd?
Petr.
Sforza lives.
All.
How's that? how's that? that, that again.
Petr.
As I now live, I set him free from Prison,
Trusting unto his Honour to secure me,
In which I did abuse the Kings Authoritie
To th' forfeit of my life.
Sold.
This sounds: this sounds.
1. Capt.
But does this sound well from a Souldiers mouth?
2. Capt.
He is not now worthy of death, before He be well whipt for lying.
[Within]
The King, the King, the King!
1. Capt.
He could never come in a better time, to see how bravely we will do justice for him.
King.
How comes this Fury rais'd amongst ye Souldiers?
Have you forgot my Laws and Person too?
1. Capt.
We honour both thus low: now gives us leave
To look like men, and give your Highness welcome
To see a General of your Election
Die with a lie in's mouth: your Souldier here,
None of the good Queens old ones.
King.
Dare you both judge and execute this man?
2. Capt.
We dare to kill the Hangman of our General,
And think it fits our Office best: though you
Have Law enough to wave our care and pain,
And hang him up your self: for he affirms
That he let Sforza live 'gainst your command;
And that's the lie we treat of.
Kin.
[Page 103]
Ile give you all your Pardons, and him Honour,
To make that true. Sfor. Your Kingly word is taken.
[Discovers himself.]
Noble Petruccio, thou art disengag'd:
And if the temper of the Kings high Anger
Blow still above his Justice, let it crush
This cloud that holds a shower of innocent blood,
Willing to fall and calm his violent fury.
All.
Our General lives: a Sforza, Sforza.
King.
Sforza!
Petr.
You have outdone me in Nobilitie.
King.
I am all wonder: now this man appears
The Mansion and habitual Seat of Honour;
Of which he seems so full, there cannot be
An Angle in his breast to lodge so base
An Inmate as disloyaltie: if so,
How was Eulalia false? or how Gonzago,
That tender Boy, the fruit of lawless lust?
There I am lost again: Great Power, that knowest
The subtletie of hearts, shew me some light
Through these Cymmerian mists of doubts and fears,
In which I am perplex'd even to distraction:
Shew me, shew me yet the face of glorious Truth; where I may read
If I have err'd, which way I was misled.
Hor.
Enters. O my dread Lord!
King.
Thy news?
Hor.
O my sweet Soveraign!
King.
Art thou distracted too?
Hor.
No Sir: The Queen, the Queen, the Queen's distracted,
And I am like to be, and you, and any man
That loves the King, unless some Conjurer
Be found to lay the Devil: I mean Sforza.
Sforza Sir (would you think?) that monstruous Traytor
Sforza walks in the Court without a Head;
[Page 104] Appear'd unto the Queen: I found her talking with him,
Kneeling and praying him to give her Pardon;
Told him indeed 'twas she that sought his Head,
And that she thought, that being now a Queen,
She might by her Prerogative take Heads,
Whose and as many as she listed: but
She promis'd she would send it him again,
Or else Petruccio's first: or if he would forgive her
This time, shee'ld do so no more.
He seem'd he would not hear her: then she beat
Her self against the walls and floor, and flies
To free her self by th' windows: calls for Poison,
Knife, Rope, or any thing, whereby to follow
Her most abused Father. What to make on't,
As I am true to th' Crown, I must refer
Onely unto your Majestie.
King.
O 'tis fearful!
Petr.
My Lord, you saw not th' Apparition, did you?
Hor.
Not I: I saw him not: nor has the Devil
Power in a Traytors shadow to appear
Unto a Loyal Subject. Hah! my Loyaltie
And Truth unto the Crown defend me!
See the very foresaid Devil at my Elbowe,
Head and all now: avoid, attempt me not Satan,
I do conjure thee by all the vertues of a Loyal Courtier.
Sfor.
They are all too weak to charm a Devil Sir;
But me they may, your Friend.
Hor.
I defie thee Bubsebel.
Petr.
What do you see, my Lord?
Hor.
Look there, the Apparition, there it is;
As like the Traytor Sforza when he liv'd,
As Devil can be like a Devil—oh!
Petr.
Fear not: he lives, and Loyal to the King.
Hor.
Does the King say so?
Sfor.
[Page 105]
Give me your hand my Lord,
The king will say so, if this be flesh and blood.
Hor.

I, if thou beest flesh and blood: but how to believe that I know not, when my touch makes me sweat out a whole showre of pure Loyaltie.

King.
No more, Horatio: I find that my credulitie
Has been wrought on unto my much abuse,
And Sforza now appears an honest man.
Hor.
Who ever thought otherwise? or how
Could he in nature appear less then Loyal?
O my right noble Lord, I weep thy welcome.
King.
Back Souldiers, to your dutie: learn of me
Hereafter how to judge with equitie.
Sould.
Long live the King.
Exeunt Capt. and Souldiers.
King.
Now in the midst of my soul-frighting ob­jects,
I cannot but applaud your mutual Friendship.
Hor.
Yes, and how equally I affect them both.
King.
O that mischance propitiously might be
A light to reconcile my thoughts and me.
Sfor.
May you be pleas'd Sir then to let the cause
In which your injur'd Queen, your Son and I,
And truth it self have suffered, be review'd?
The mischievous creature that was drunk, now's mad
With brain-confounding strong Ambition:
She whom your ill-plac'd love Grac'd as a wife,
Whom now I am not fond of to call Daughter,
It seems is past Examination.
Hor.
Mad, mad, most irrecoverably mad.
Sfor.
But let those Hell-bred witnesses be call'd,
And re-examined.
Hor.
They are not to be found.
King.
No? where is Flavello?
Petr.
Not seen in Court these ten dayes.
Hor.
Let me out-squeeze that Court-Sponge.
[Page 106] If I do not fetch out the poisonous corruption
Of all this Practice, let me yet be guiltie.

Scoen. IX.

Post-Horn. Enter Pedro. Letters.
King.
From whence art thou?
Pedr.
Your Pro­vince of Palermo
Thus low submits in dutie to your Highness,
The Service and the lives of whose Inhabitants
So truely are subjected to your Power,
That needless is the Preparation
Which with much grief we hear you make against us,
By hostile Force to root up a Rebellion
Bred meerly out of Rumour.
King.
Peace, no more:
I find the Province Loyal.
Hor.
VVho made doubt on't?
Ile undertake to find more Toads in Ireland,
Then Rebels in Palermo, were the Queen
(Queen did I call her?) that disloyal woman
And that slie Traytor Lodovico out on't.
King.
See Sforza, see Petruccio, what Lodovico
That trustie and true-hearted Lord has wrote me:
He has ended all my doubts, good man.
Hor.
Ah, ah! does not your grace come to me now?
I thought I would put your Highness to't for once,
To try what you would say: when Lodovico
Does not prove trustie, then let me be truss'd.
Petr.
'Tis a most happy Information.
King.
I, do you note the Passages?
Sfor.
'Tis indeed worthy a Kings regard: you see your way.
King.
Yes, yes, I know now what to do,
And mean to put it presently in Act.
Hor.
[Page 107]
This I foresaw would prove an hour of com­fort.
The Stars themselves ne'er saw events more plainly.
King.
How full of April-changes is our life?
Now a fit showre of sad distilling Rain,
And by and by the Sun breaks forth again.
Exeunt Omnes.

ACT. V.

Scoen. I.

Enter Lodovico, Eulalia.
Lod.
FEar not good Madam, trust my care and Reason.
Eul.
Good Lodovico, though I thank your care
And love to me, yet give me leave to doubt,
That as that cruel and Ambitious woman
Hath oversway'd the Judgement of the King,
She may pervert his Royal purposes
Of Peace and love, to your and my destruction.
Before you sent, would you had tane my Counsel.
Enter Pedro with Gonzago, and Letters.
Lod.
To end all doubts, see Pedro is return'd.
Pedr.
And happily: see Madam.
[Presents Gonzago to her.]
Eul.
My Gonzago;
My Prince, I should have said.
Gonz.
Thrice-gracious Mother,
I thank Petruccio, who preserv'd my life,
For nothing more, then this one minutes Bliss,
In which I find your Blessing in a kiss.
Eul.
Weep not, fair Sir.
Pedr.
The Lord Petruccio Madam
Presents you these.
[Letters She Reads.]
Lod.
Welcome my sweet young Prince.
Gonz.
I thank you Lodovico.
Lod.
Now I see methinks a Court again.
Pedr.
[Page 108]
We shall do shortly; for the King is coming,
And not in terror, but with Grace and Favour.
Lod.
'Tis happy Heavenly news.
Eul.
See here's an Inundation
Of Joys that do like waves orecome each other.
Brave, wise, and valiant Petruccio!
That couldst so happily deceive the King
By a supposed death, to save the Life
Of my sweet Boy: all that I can be sorry for,
Is this: Alinda is Frantick.
[Lod. reads]
Pedr.
Can that grieve you?
Eul.
He brings her with him: and I hope the change
Of Air, with wholsome Prayers and Physicks Art,
In which I am not ignorant, may restore her.
Lod.
Madam, the Sun shines fairly.

Scoen. II.

Enter Lollio and Poggio.
Lol.
News, news upon news!
Eul.
The Queen is kill'd: is not that it?
Lol.

No nor the King neither, God bless him: they are both alive, with all their Pomp and Train coming to see our School-Mistress.

Eul.

Auspicious Provi­dence!

Lol.

They take us in their way, for they are pas­sing to Nicosia, where the King means to keep his word with the Queen, in giving her three what d'ye calls?

Lod.

Three Boons, as the custom is.

Lol.

Boons? I Boons: I warrant she'l ask no Baubles.

Pog.
[Page 109]
O Mistress, you were careful for her, that comes
I warrant but to jeere you.
Eul.
Patience would die, if 'twere not exercis'd.
But now it rests, that we prepare to entertain our Guests.
We must to welcome them make Holy day,
And give our Scholars leave to Feast and Play.
The Swaines you say are perfect in the Dance;
So are my Maids: wee'l leave it for the King.
Exeunt.

Scoen. III.

Enter King, Alinda, Horatio, Lodovico, Attendants.
King.
I cannot but applaud your mind, Alinda,
But am not much affected with the Subject
On which you purpose now to cast your Favour.
Lod.
More scorn upon my life, and rude vexation.
[aside]
Alin.
If my fair meaning Sir shall prove mistaken,
'Tis but a loving purpose lost.
(O that wretch Flavello!)
[aside]
Lod.
If she have further purpose then to raise
More sorrow by the Kings displeasure to her.
[aside]
Hor.
Let her alone, her Raign's but short we know.
[aside]
Soft Musick.
Hor.
Is this the sound of want and misery?
Alin.
Of wantonness I fear, and Luxurie.
(The villain had no purpose but to flatter.)
[aside]
O Sir, why came we hither?
Lod.
Mark the Came­lion.
[aside]
King.
'Tis most sweet Musick.

Scoen. IV.

Enter Eulalia with three or four Girls, and work in their hands.
Eul.
Such as the rudeness of the Countrey yields Sir,
Hayl to the King and Queen, and may the thanks
Which on my knees I offer at those Feet
That beautifie and bless this humble Earth
Add many years unto your happy lives.
Alin.
We have e'en seen enough: 'twas all I fear'd,
To find her knee-deep in Hypocrisie.
Eul.
Seem not to turn away, most gracious Madam,
Before I shew for which I hop'd you came,
The manner how I get a competence to live.
[Shews her works, and makes abrave description of Pieces: As Sale-work, Day-work, Night-work, wrought Night-caps, Coyfs, Stomachers.]
Alin.
Your work you say, though't be o'th' newest Frame,
I fear your Play is still at the old Game.
Both wayes bring money: is't not so forsooth?
King.
Enough, Alinda.
Lod.
Too much, to tread upon Affliction.
[aside]
King.
What say you Lodovico?
Lod.
I say Sir, the distresses of that Lady merit a
Kings Pity, and not such scorn
As I see cast upon her: but the best are women.
King.
No more.
Eul.
May it please your Highness sit, and note the Play
By which we gain when we lay work away.
[Page 111] The Song I taught you last.
Song.
Alin.
These wenches will be a good help to you at wassel-tide.
Eul.
We have varietie for all the Seasons,
Of such poor entertainments, mighty Queen,
To shew our much contentment in their welcome.
Lod.
Goodness speaks in her.
Alin.
There's for your Song () No, stay, I may transgress
The Law.
(Lod.
O Devil!
Hor.
Let her jeer on.)
[aside]
King.
Not if you give it for her pains, Alinda.
Alin.
Nay since you warrant it, let's pay and go.
Though I have heard such pains disputed Begging.
Lod.
As all Arts are, by the Rewards they find.
Eul.
Nay I beseech your Majesties.
Alin.
What's the Feat now?
[Musick, Dance.]
Alin.
Sir, are you pleas'd to prosecute your jour­ney?
Or do these Beauties and delights enchant you?
King.
Ha? no, come, let's away.
Eul.
Oh let me yet entreat your Highness stay.
Alin.
Not a stroke more I thank you: we have heard
And seen enough: so much, as I must tell you
I cannot but commend your Parents Wisdom,
Who having Calculated your Nativitie,
By which they had the foresight of your fall,
Prevented thus the Planets by their care,
By teaching you to live by Hand and Foot.
Lod.
Did ever Daughter of a King thus suffer?
Or has she Pride to smile on Injuries?
Alind.
Sir, you forget Nicosia.
[Eulalia whispers her.]
Alin.
Plots against me?
King.
How's that?
Alin.
She dreams of Treason intended against me.
Hor.
[Page 112]
No Divination against her own good, I hope.
[aside]
Eul.
Mighty Sir, hear me: not to implore your Bountie;
No not your thanks, nor Popular Applause;
But for I am your Subject and your servant,
Bound by your Allegiance as well to prevent
All Ills might pass against you, as to do none.
I could not think it but strict dutie in me
To hasten this discoverie.
Lod.
Treason, and a Letter?
We have never a false Brother amongst us, have we?
Hor.
If ever you held your peace, peace now.
King.
It bears a face of Horror.
Alin.
Cunning and Gipsie Tricks: will you to Nicosia?
Kin.
What we meant there, we may do here as well.
The Treason's there intended: look ye my Lords!
How careless is this woman of her safetie.
Alin.
You Sir are careless: for if there be danger,
VVhere can I fear it but in this place onely?
The world holds not an Enemy of mine,
But this enchantress you maintain against me.
King.
Your motion and your own love drew us hither.
Alin.
I would fain love her, and certainly I should,
But that she still begets fresh cause of Hatred.
She has some Devillish Plot in hand this Instant:
This shew is but the straw that hides the Pit.
Lod.
No enemy but she? to let her know she lies,
Even unto Prophanation against that Lady,
Ile speak.
Hor.
I hope you will not.
Lod.
The King shall see his error.
Hor.
Will you?
Lod.
She her crueltie.
Hor.
Will you, will you?
Lod.
The world Eulalia's Pietie.
Hor.
Will you? will you?
King.
What says Lodovico?
Lod.
[Page 113]
Most mighty Sir, we here confess and say.
Hor.
We? you hear not me say any thing; do you?
King.
What will you say?
Lod.
That Letter was not ours.
H [...]
That's well.
King.
We easily believe it.
Lod.
Nor any day or place as yet set down
Among our selves, for fact against the Queen.
I mean Alinda.
Hor.
Nor fact intended was there, of death or danger?
Lod.
'Twas wish'd at least by us.
Hor.
Lord, Lord,
Lord mumb.
King.
Our Guard.
[Enter Guard]
Lod.
King she's the General grudge of all thy Kingdom.
Hor.
You do not hear me say so.
King.
Their grudge incites my love: take e'm away.
Come my wrong'd Alinda: This place shall serve,
And this Assembly, to make a Kings word good.
Make your Demands: three things I promise you.
Ask what you will, even to my dearest blood.
Alin.
Your Highness will excuse me, if I urge you
To bind it with an Oath?
King.
Give me a Book.
VVhat I have promis'd to my lawful Queen,
I will perform; ask freely.
Eul.
Great Queen, vouchsafe to take an Admoni­tion,
My last and truest Testimonie of Love.
The rest were shadows to it.
Alin.
Well, pray let's hear it.
Eul.
Let your Demands be for the common good.
Not for your own respects: selflove may hurt you:
Beware Ambition, Envie, and Revenge.
King.
The Oracle could not pronounce more wisely.
Alin.
[Page 114]
Is this your love? 'tis fear of my just Ven­geance.
Therefore hear my demands, my King and Husband.
First I demand the lives of these conspirators
Lodovico and Horatio.
Omn.
Bloody.
Alin.
Next that your Son, m [...]ch of the Mothers Nature,
By Act of Parliament be disinherited.
Omn.
O fearful.
Alin.
Last, that this woman have her eyes put out,
And be for ever banish'd your Dominions.
Omn.
Crueltie and Ingratitude past all Example
King.
Was this your Charitie? you have now de­clar'd it fully:
And I of both have made sufficient Tryal.
Come here Eulalia, take now thy wonted Seat and keep it ever.
Thy povertie and patience have restor'd thee
By the just Providentce: while her Excesse and Pride
Casts her before thee, to receive that Doom
She had devis'd 'gainst thy immortal Goodness.
Into perpetual Exile; hence, away with her.
Alind.
Remember your Oath, my Lord.
King.
My Oath was to perform what I had pro­mis'd unto my lawful Queen: that's my Eulalia.
And let good Lodowick and Horatio be restor'd.
Exeunt King and Attendants Alinda en­transed carried out.

Scoen. V.

Enter Curate.
Cur.
Oh! proh! proh Nef as!
Ile have no hand in blood of any man.
Eul.
[Page 115]
More exclaimations? what distracts you now?
Cur.
Coram Senatures acta est: sub Judice lis est.
Ocurvae in Terris animae: the Rusticks
Have tane again the Law into their hands.
And will you tender clemencie non justante
A Courtiet hang, his sweet Face nec invante.
Eul.
VVhat is his Name?
Cur.
His Name is hight Alphonso
That Treason brought in Pectore & Skonso
Eul.
VVho are the heads of the Judicious Faction?
Cur.
Andrea, Lollio, Poggio, the Drudges
Have got the Peoples voice to their Judges.
Lod.
Dare they do this?
Cur.
Yes Judges they will be,
And kill, they say, the Snake of Treachery.
Eul.
I hope we may come yet to stay their Sen­tence.
Eul.
Pray bring us to the place: where if we can,
Let us avert their Judgement from this man.
Exeunt.

Scoen. VI.

Enter Andrea, Poggio, Lollio, a Typstaff before them.
Andr.
And can these turmoiles never have an end?
Unless we load our heads and shoulders thus
Our bodies eke with Justice Capa Pe.
And Pepper all our brains with Policie.
Pog.
'Twas time to have a care: I, and a piteous care.
Lol.
A pious care you mean.
Pog.
Well pious then:
You'l shew your own wit, whose clothes soever you wear
(So do the wits of the time) but as I said,
[Page 116] 'Tis time we have a care, for though our Queen,
Our School Mistress I would say, be mercifully, idleful
It is fit that we be prejudicious in the State.
Lol.
Ju-dicions Brother.
Pog.
Jew in your face.
Trip me again?
Andr.
Agree upon't, Brother Sages of the Bench.
My Brother Poggio here said very well
And learnedly and as I would have said my self?
(If you will take his meaning) to wit that as
Our Shool Mistris doats upon
Clemencie, it is fit that we run mad upon crueltie
Someeting her in the midst, we shall jump into the Sadle of Justice.
Pog.
I do say so, without all peradventure
For if the Candle of her mercy be not put out,
VVe shall shortly, see more honest men then Knaves among us.
Lol.
More Knaves you mean Brother.
Pog.
I mean no more Knaves then your self, Bro­ther.
Andr.
Agree again, Sage brothers of the Bench: and let no private
Itch grow to a put like Scab.
Lol.
Then the point:
Do not I understand the purpose of our meeting
Here in our pettie Parliament, if I may so call it?
Is it nor for a Reformation, to pull down
The Queens mercy, and set up our Justice?
For the prevention of a superabundance of Treason
Dayly practiced against her?
Andr.

Most true. And is it fit therefore that you brabble among your selves, and leave all worse then you found it?

Lol.

No, we will make such a Reformation, that Treason shall not dare to peep over the Hedge of her Dominion, but we will take it by the nose and punish it indignely: most indignely will we punish it?

Pog.
[Page 117]

All this I grant: but before we sit and bustle on the Bench, because it is, and that without all per­adventure, the strst time that ever we play'd so wise a part, is it not fit to take advice among our selves, how to deform our selves in our office.

Lol.

De did you say? in in you should say.

Pog.

In with your Horns: how now?

Andr.

Nay Brothers o'th Bench.

Pog.

Does he think to control me? because he has been a Sexton, and a little more book learned then a Lay man with an Amen forsooth?

Andr.

Nay Bro­thers: this will control the business.

Pog.

Or because he has been in many a mans grave before him, does he think no man so deep in grave matters as himself?

Lol.

Well, I forbear.

Pog.

Shall he bid me In, In? as if I were not his inserior?

Lol.

I forbear still.

Pog.

I will shew my self his inferior I, and a greater man then he; and to prove my self a great man, let him hang one, I will save two.

Lol.

Still orbear.

Andr.

Pray Brothers yet agree: and remember we use no mercy

Pog.

Let him that uses any mercy lack mercy, for my part.

Lol.

Then let us sit, and fall to the Business.

Pog.

Sit and fall: was that so wisely spoken of a book-learned man now?

Lol.
Still I forbear Passion becomes not Judges,
Now bring in the offender, the new and last offender.
And.

Pray thinke on your speeches.

[Exit Typstaff.]
Lol.

I have made speeches that I hope shall make Traytors.

And.

How?

Lol.

Asham'd to wear their own heads on their shoulders.

Andr.

A Traytors head is not his own head: 'tis forfeired by Law to [Page 118] the King; 'tis the Kings head.

Pog.

I say a Traytors head is his own Head: and a good Subjects head is the Kings Head.

Lol.

I say that's Treason: and the head thou wearest is not thine own then, if thou beest a good Subject.

Pog.

Wilt thou tell me that?

Andr.

Passion becomes not Judges, Brothers o'th the Bench.

The offender comes,
Now they are hot, he shall be sure to smoak for it.

Scoen. VII.

Enter Alphonso and Guard.
Alph.
Whither do you hale me? you Pease-por­ridge Peasants:
Is this a place for me to come to Tryal in?
If I had broke the Law, as I have not
I am a Peer, and do appeal unto
The Kings high Seat of Justice, publikely.
Lol.

And will not our low stool of Justice, privily

Serve for a Traytor? ha.
Alph.

Your selves are Traytors,

In succouring 'gainst the Law, a dissolute woman
Whom I command you, in the Kings high name,
To yield into my hands.
Lol. Pog. Andr.

You shall be hang'd first.

Alph.

By whose Authority?

Lol.

By the said wo­mans Sir.

She is our Queen and her Authority is in our hands.
Alph.

That speaks you Traytors: and the King has Law against you and her.

Lol.

When you are hang'd he has: to the next able

Tree with him, and hang him presently.
Alph.

Villains: you dare not so say.

Omu.
[Page 119]
We do all say Hang him with one accord:
Gua.
If on cord will not do't another shall:
So come away Sir.
Lol.
Stay: hear a speech first.
Alph.
You dare not use me thus: dare you take Justice one ye?
Lol.
Yes Sir, we can spie
Great faults in Noble Coats, with half an eye.
What though we nod? does Treason therefore think
Justice is adle brain'd? or though she wink
In us (as thus) that she's a sleep? or say
She take a nap, d' ye think shee'l sleep for ay?
No, she but dreams a while, to circumvent,
Your vains hopes, with sharper punishment.
For if she be but jogg'd, no Mastife takes
Swifter or surer vengeance when she wakes.
Pog.
I, hang him, hang him.
Andr.
Is he not hang'd yet?
Pog.
Without all peradventure the Hangman means to hang for him.
Guard.
Come Sir along, never hang backward, for up you must.
Lol.
Stay him, my speeches will be lost else.
Pog.

Your long speeches will loose our purpose again, without all peradventure.

Alph.
Must I be mock'd out of my life? and have
My death by hanging made a sport to Peasants,
In this blind hole oth' Kingdom?
Andr.

Why thou choplogicall Fellow, dost thou not think, there are as good men hang'd, and as good sport made of it too, in the bli [...] holes of the Kingdom, as in the very eye or open mouth of it? ha!

Pog.
Away with him without peradventure
Alph.
I am a Courtier, and servant to the King.
Lot.
Come all the Court in all your costly Braveries.
[Page 120] And Treason in your Breech, we'll hang you for your Knaveries,
On tree in Hempen twine nay if you come
In open Arms, up shall you all and some.
For though for Tournament your Fames do flie
Run all at Tilt on us, wee'l draw you dry.
Andr.
Tell us you are a Courtier? we find here
F [...]u [...]s to correct, which you perceive not there.
So, now away with him, I have spoke my best.
Pog.
And without all peradventure well said Judge Andrea:
How long must we say away with him? ha!
Alph.
You hobnayl'd Rascals: can you think that you
Are fit to spie or corrects faults at Court?
Lol.
Stay, a short speech for that, and turn him off.
Your shoes at Court are all too fine and thin:
To tread out snuffes and sparks of kindling Sin,
Which let alone the Rushes may take fire.
Then flame, then burn up higher still, and higher:
You warm you at such fire, 'tis we walk through't
The hobnayl'd Common wealth must tread it out.
Andr.
So, now away with him. Hang him first, d' ye hear
He has the bast clothes, that will encourage
The Hangman the better to turn the rest after him.
Enter Eulalia, Lodovico.
Enl.
Whither away with him?
Pog.
So, now you see what's become of your fine s [...]eches.
Eul.
Will ye, 'gainst all my Counsels and requests
Persist to pull destruction by taking others lives upon your own?
And seem to carry it as in care for me?
Pog.
No, 'tis in care of our selves, because we know
Not to breed our Children honestly without you.
Eul.
[Page 121]
Have I not often councell'd and entreated
You would forbear?
Lol.
Your councels and entreats
We are bound to disobey by Proclamation:
For we must grant you nothing.
Andr.
VVell found out.
Pog.

And therefore if you say, Hang not this man We are bound to hang him; we will shew our selves the Kings Subjects not yours.

Lod.
If you can answer't to the King, 'tis well;
His Majesty is here at hand.
Eul.
Go leave him unto me.
Andr.
The King at hand? 'tis time for us to look about us.
Lol.
Must not we be hang'd now?
Pog.
It will be so, without all peradventure.
Eul.
Release your Prisoner, set him free, and go send the rest of the confederats.
Exeunt Guard Alphonso kneeles.
Alph.
I was not bound till now
I have no power to move or stir a limb:
O sacred Queen, use mercy, in ad [...]udging me,
To present death, to quit me of the torment.
That rages all upon me, all within me.
The sight of you has shot more paines into me
Then I have drops of blood: O let me die.
Eul.
I cannot give thee death: nor will my prayers
Be prevalent for thy cure poor sinful man!
Till rhou layst ope the cause of thy disease;
(Thy hainous sin) by fair and free confession.
Alph.
I hope no cure, and therefore ask no life.
But the Kings Justice to afford me death,
That is no less deserved then desir'd;
For I confess, This my Device was but
To make my way to you, t' have murder'd you.
Enter two Lieutenants, Doctor and Midwife.
Wrought thereunto by Alinda's Instigation.
[Page 122] More I confess; The Evidence against you,
Whereby you were despos'd, was false.
And all these witnesses which now do bring
Addition to my to my torment, did I hire
Both for their perjury past, and for their late
Attempt upon your life, with the Queens money.
Eul.
Do you confess it?
Omn.
Heaven Pardon our misdeed: it is most true.
Eul.
Heaven grant you all your cures.
Omn.
All blessings on the Queen.
Eul.
All was confess'd before by Fabio and Strozzo.
And you do well to seem so penitent:
I do forgive you: and will plead your pardon unto the King.
Alph.

Your sacred mercy Madam, shall save a life then, to be spent in Praises and Prayers for your Grace.

Eul.
Go, and pray for grace to mend your lives.
[Exeunt offenders.]
So, let's now to the King.
Lod.
Now look you about you: cast your Coats, and instantly
Hast to the Curat, hee's preparing sports,
In speech and Dance, to entertain the King:
Go and assist him: that must be the way
To gain your Pardons.
Andr.
Come then, let's away,
No longer Brothers of the Bench wee'l be,
But of the Revels for his Majesty.

Scoen. VIII.

[Recorders.]
Enter King, Horatio, Sforza, Petruccio.
King.
These troubles over: let us, now
Surveigh this part of my Possession.
[Page 123] I never saw before. I could contemplate
This late neglected peece of my Estate,
To be the happiest: sure it is no less,
To those that think on earth there's happiness,
The Air disperseth pleasure and the Earth
Of fresh delight to every step gives birth.
Here plentie grows, and above it content,
Ore spreads the Face of all the Continent.
Eulalia, thou art happy, and didst rise,
Not fall from Court into this Paradise.
Thy can it move my admiration much,
Thy vertue wrought the change, and made it such.
Sfor.
My Lord, the King is sad, what shall we do?
Hor.
I am as sad as he, and should be dead,
If he were dead: and therefore no fit member
To make Him merry, I: try your vein with him,
Tell him your Daughters dying; that may cheer him.
Sfor.
Are you so tart Court Blain-worm?
King.
Yet can I smile in midst of grief to think
How the Court malice hath been wav'd and punished,
By Rustical simplicitie.
Petr.
The Sun
Appears again in the Kings smiles: observe.
Hor.
I thank your Majestie, that sweet smile re­viv'd me,
King.
Who smil'd?
Hor.
not I, I'm sure did you: or you?

There could be no such thing: who dares be mer­ry, when the King's sad?

Shalmes
Petr.

Yes, here are some now coming, I hear 'm, that are merry in hope to make the King so.

Scoen. IX.

Enter Curat richly rob'd, and Crown'd with Bays, playing on a Fiddle, many School Boys with Skaerfes and Nosegays, &c. then follow Gonzago, dress'd and Crown'd as Queen of the Girles, fol­lowing her: at last Eulalia supported by Lodovico and Andrea: Alphanso, Strozzo, Fabio, D. Mid­wife. The former being all pass'd over the Stage: they kneel to the King.
King.
O my Enlalia!
Eul.
Still the most humble Handmaid
To your high Majestie.
King.
Thy words are sweet:
Yet to my guiltie sense they are not less
Then thunder bolts; fram'd of the wrongs I shot
Against the Heavenly Region of thy mind.
And 'tis but Justice that the repercussion
Do strike me dead.
Eul.
No Passion mighty Sir,
Hor.
O my sweet Queen! but I am thunder struck
Andr.
Old Lad, art there? still sick oth' Kings disease.
[aside]
Eul.
If I may presume of any favour, vouchsafe a glance on these.
Alphonso Stro. Fab. Doctor and Mid.
Besech your Highness.
Enter Curat Gonzago in his hand veil'd three or four Lasses.
Cur.
Thus have you seen great King in best array,
Nostri Discipuli have made Holy-day,
Whilst I their Paedagogue or pettie King
Present in hand this little Royal Thing,
[Page 125] Yclep'd their Queen or Mistriss: certe fallor
For that's the Royal School Misttess as we call her.
And this her under Usner: vey'ld is she,
Dreading the Power of shinning Majesty.
Might dazle her Dancing: for nunc est saltandum,
And here are Lads and Lasses that at Random
Have left their works, as we the School & Templum,
To follow us; 'tis Regis ad Exemplum.
The youth's are muffled for their better graces,
Though you may like their feet, youl'd blame their Faces
But Ile not trouble you with long Oration,
Because I had but short precogitation.
[Dance]
Hor.
His Highness thanks you: and hath here dis­pos'd
An hundred Duccats in this Purse inclos'd;
Drink it amongst ye to the Kings well faring,
And see there be no falling out ith' sharing
So make your Exit.
Cur.
Non simus ingrati
Rex & Regina semper sint Beati.
Exeunt Curat and Lasses.
Eul.
Stay you a while.
Manent Fabio Strozzo Alphonso Doctor and Mid­wife; they all kneel.
You know my Story, Sir, and who have been
My strong abusers, and by me converced,
Therefore let me Petition: Royal King
You have by these discovered the abuse
That led you into error: and that light,
Which makes discovery of their black misdeeds,
Will shew you to a Throne of greater merey
Then you can give.
King.
I must confess I need it,
Bee't as thou wilt Eulalia.
Eul.
Go then, and thank the King.
All.
Long live the King and Queen.
[Exeunt offenders.]
Lod.
Here's goodness now.
Hor.

I would the De­vil [Page 126] had, 'm that thought ill of her.

Andr.

And good King Pardon me, and my pure brother Judges, and Sages of the Dorpe here, that would have hang'd those Manufactors.

King.
'Tis quickly grauted.
Andr.
And Ile as quickly make them run mad with Joy.
Eul.
My next suit is, (for now I'm set a begging,
You'l Pardon your Alinda.
King.
She is not mine;
Should she recover, as Heavens will be done.
Eul.
Recover? fear not, Sir, this Traunse hast drown'd
Her Frenzie, and shee'l live a sober life.
King.
I shall forgive her,
But she must no more, in her recovery:
Be consort or acquaintance unto me:
But where's Posteritie now? O my Boy!
Eul.
Sir you have had but homely entertainment
Yet in my humble dwelling: now Ile shew you
(Since you appear so tender and so good
A Father) the sweet comfort of a Son;
Pray fetch the Prince.
King.
You cannot raise from death.
Exit Lodovico.
Eul.
Can you forgive Pttrucio that deceiv'd you
In his faign'd death, to save a real life:
King.
Forgive? he won me in preserving Sforza,
Let me but see my Son, Ile honour him.
Enter Lodovico with Gonzrgo.
Hor.
See the most Princely vertue that survives.
King.
lives my Gonzago?
Gonz.
If you my Royal Father be not displeas'd
With me, or my good mother, I shall live.
Hor.
And long live my sweet Prince.
King.
Let not my joy confound me! where's Petruccid?
Lod.
[Page 127]
Sforza and he are bringing the entrauns'd Alinda
(Your fair Queen to your presence.)
King.
She is no Queen of mine.
Hor.
No, hang her, hang her. This, this is the Queen.
A very Queen of harts: a better Title
Crowns not the best of women in our days.
King.
Good Lodovico, may the merited Fame of thy fidelitie,
While there are Kings on Earth, Shew them to gra­tifie
All trustie servants: love him Gonzago.
Hor.
Love him? my Loyaltie preserv'd,
I shall not desire the Princes love my self
If he not giv't to faithful Lodovico,
My true yoak fellow in State and Commonwealth.
[Recorders.]
Enter Sforza and Petruccio, bringing Alinda in a Chayre, veyl'd.
King.
But here's the man Gonzago, whom thou owest,
A love of equal value to thy life.
Petr.
I cannot Sir, in dutie nevertheless
But fall before your mercy, which I pray for,
That durst assume the hardness to control:
Your Majestie Command.
Hor.
There is a Loyaltie after my own heart now.
Here a new Song, Ealalia unvailes Alinda.
Eul.
Bless'd Heauen! she lives and wakes I hope in health.
Sfor.
If she awake to vertue, she is welcome,
Into the the world again: but if she rise
With an Ambitious Throught of what she was
Or meet the light with a presumptuous look:
That renders her in thought but worthy of it:
By this bless'd presence I will yet take leave.
[Page 128] To sink her under earth immediatly.
Eul.
Patience good Sforza, see what she will do.
Alin.
Where have I been? or how am I brought hither?
Or where I am I know not: but that shall not.
[Musick ceased.]
Be unto me a wonder: for I know
Were it reveil'd, it could not be so strange:
A stotie as my self was to the world.
How have I wandred in the way of Error!
Till I was worn into an Airie vapour.
Then wrap'd into a cloud: and thence distill'd,
Into the earth to find a new creation.
'Tis found: and I am found in better state,
Then I was in, before I lost my Dutie.
For in this second Birth: I find a knowledge
How to preserve it: Therefore if an Heart
Dissolved in its Tears may move your Pity
My noble Father, (if I may say Father,)
Whose blessing and forgiveness I entreat,
Let not your frown destroy my future hopes.
Sfor.
What a rich sound were this now, were it reall!
Eul.
As you may think I honour vertue Sforza,
I do believe 'tis really unfaigned.
Sfor.
It is Heavens goodness to your Grace then Madam.
The more to vindicate your injur'd vertue.
And manifest your merits to the world,
Thou art mine own again Alinda.
Eal.
Note her further.
Alin.
My suit is next to you King, Queen, and Prince,
Whose love, whose Pietie, whose Innocence,
I have too much abus'd that to appeal,
[Page 129] My trespasses at large by due confession.
I should appear but more impertinent to each eye and ear.
My suit is therefore (though you not forget
I ever was) you will be pleas'd to think,
There is not an Alinda in the world.
So give me leave to leave it: and in this,
I beg my Fathers Aid, to be remov'd
Back to my countrey Naples; and in that,
Into the Magdalene Nunnerie at Lucera,
To spend this life in Tears for my amiss,
And holy Prayers for eternal Bliss.
[veiles ber self.]
Sfor.
So thou art mine for ever.
King.
She has anticipated my great purpose,
For on the reconcilement of this difference,
I vow'd my after life unto the Monaste [...]ie
Of holy Augustinians at Solanto.
Omn.
O mighty Sir!
King.
'Tis not to be gain-said.
So hast we to Nicosia, where (my Son)
In lieu of former wrongs, Ile yield thee up my Crown and Kingdom.
Your vertuous mother (whom may you for ever
Honour for her pietie) with these true
Statesmen, will enable you to govern well.
Hor.
Who makes a doubt of that?
King.
And let your studie, Sir, be ever watchful
To cherish vertue, as to punish vice.
And see that you considerative be
Of Sforza, in the wrongs he felt by me.
His was the greatest losse.
Sfor.
Sir, I have won:
My wrongs are drown'd in her conversion.
King.
Good Sforza, see her plac'd as she desires,
[Page 130] In that Religious order. I have now
Plighted my Troth to Heaven, and so has she.
Omn.
O may (Sir) such Wedlock ne'er broken be.
King.
Now with such melting silence as sweet Souls
From Bodies part to Immortalitie,
May we for better life divided be.
Exeunt Omnes.
Dedit Deus his quo (que) finem.
RIC. BROME.

The Epilogue.

Lod.
THrough much distress, and many perilous wayes
Our Queen at last with more then conquering Bays
Is Crown'd with hearts: but now she fals again,
And we, except her glory you maintain.
Our good depends on you then, thus it stands;
She chears our Hearts, if she but gain your Hands.
FINIS.
Books Printed for Hen. Brome at the Gun in Ivy-Lane.
  • THe Souls Conflict, Being Eight Sermons, six whereof were Preached at Oxford.
  • The Queens Exchange, A Comedy, by Richard Brome.
  • Two Essays of Love and Marriage.
  • The Grand Impostor Examined, or the life and Tryal of James Nayler.
  • The Souls Turnkey, Being a Conference betwixt Mr. Hanum and Mr. Tuke Moderator of Gr. Coll. in London.
  • Poems, Epistles and Epigrams, on several persons and occasions, by no body must know whom, are to be had every body knowes where, and for any body knowes what.
  • Dr. Browns Sepulchral Urns, and gardens of Cyprus.
Books now in the Press: which will shortly be extant.
  • The affinity of sacred Lyturgies, By Hamon L' E­strange, Esq
  • Five New Comedies which were never before pub­lisht, By Richard Brome.
  • A Learned and desired Commentary on the whole Epistle to the Philippians. By Nath. Tucker late Preacher of the Gospel at Portsmouth.
  • Adam out of Eden, or an Abstract of remarkable observations, touching the improving of Hus­bandry: by John Speed, &c.

Errata.

PAg. 9. l. 13. f. is read in p. 11▪ l. 5. f. Nignion. r. Mignion. p. 28. l. 6. f. Hor. r. Lod. p. 38. l. 13. and 14. Ent. Sforza. p. 61. l. 20. for and r. in. p. 68. l. antepenult. f. mine r. my. p. 69. l. 5. f. shalt be King. r. shalt. King. p. 75. l. 19. f. inspir'd r. has inspir'd. p. 76. f. but r. bate. l. 32. p. 80. l. 26. f. said, r. have said. p. 83. l. 4. r. Lol. p. 84. l. 18. dele Countr. p. 94. l. r. Exeunt. p. 95. l. 23. f. speaks r. speak. and l. 29. f. in. r. is in. p. 97. f. they. r. thy. p. 97. f. speaks. r. speak. p. 115. l. 13. f. to their r. to be their & l. 18. dele Eul. p. 116. l. 24. p. 119. l. 3. f. on. r. one, and l. 6. f. one, r. on p. 122. l. 5. dele to my.

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